Mischief
by Dessert
Summary: Draco is a two-and-a-half inch pixie who loves a five-and-a-half foot human. That's okay, because he is going to fix that. Right after he "fixes" Harry's girlfriend. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 1**

**Bad luck...or jealous pixie?**

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Ginny snuck an arm around Harry and nuzzled the back of his neck.

"Hmmm. Good morning," Harry muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes.

"Morning," she returned with a sly smile.

Their first day in their new home. Man, she had so much unpacking to do.

But that mess could wait. The blankets were warm, Harry was warm, and the soft sunlight coming through the curtains was not quite bright enough to force her out of bed.

She had been disappointed when Harry wanted this place. Ginny was not a "cabin in the woods" kind of girl. But if every morning was like this, then she did not mind so much. The sounds of birds outside and the tall green trees were rather romantic.

An icy cold drop of water smacked her in the eye, rudely jolting her from her sleepy thoughts. She wiped it away with the palm of her hand.

Great. A leaky roof. But she did not hear any rain. Perhaps morning dew caused the leak?

Another droplet fell, smacking her in the nose this time. After the third drop, Ginny sighed and sat up with a groan.

Stupid cabin. Stupid nature.

She had never learned any spells for fixing roofs. She would have to ask Hermione later. Or maybe Harry knew what to do.

She rested her arms on her knees and looked about the unfamiliar place. Their room was a pig sty of boxes and hastily placed furniture. They had been so excited yesterday that they worked until they almost passed out. Now she faced the tedium of having to sort all this crap.

Yet another wet drop landed on her, in her eye again. So there were multiple leaks, and apparently none of them were above Harry's side of the bed. She huffed in annoyance, and flipped the covers off.

She had tried to talk Harry out of the old grungy cabin, but Harry had his heart set on the place and none of the cozy flats in Hogsmeade could change his mind. Well, maybe she would like it more once she fixed the roof and unpacked their things.

She sleepily stumbled towards the kitchen and, despite taking care to watch her step, she stubbed her toe on the door frame. Clenching her teeth, she hissed several fowl words and balanced on one leg while she rubbed her foot.

_I take it back. This morning sucks._

If she was going to cook their first official breakfast in their new house, then the first thing she had to do was find out where the box of kitchen supplies had landed in the mess. Her toe still throbbing, she limped into the kitchen.

She raised her wand and said, "Point me, cooking stuff." The wand swung, aiming towards the far corner.

A couple minutes later she scratched her head, confused. She had searched all of the boxes, and they all contained clothing and books.

Huh. Perhaps she should be more specific.

"Point me, spoons."

Now the wand pointed towards the living room. The five boxes in the living room were not what she was looking for either. She had written "Kitchen" on the box she needed, and none of these were labeled so. But in their haste and excitement, maybe the contents had gotten mixed up somehow.

She opened each of the boxes. No pots and pans. Where had they disappeared to?

"Point me, pans!"

The wand pointed at the door. Had they left a box outside? But they had taken their things through the floo!

Ginny opened the door and peered out. Sure enough, a box with "Kitchen" written on the front sat on the front walk. How had it gotten out here? Harry was as bad as Ron sometimes.

She shivered in her thin night shirt. She should put a robe one first, but the box sat a measly distance away, and if she hurried there was no need to go through the trouble of dressing. And it was not like they had any neighbors out here at the ends of the earth.

She braced herself, and then zipped outside. The moment her hands touched the card board, a freezing gust of wind swept by. She turned to sprint inside.

SLAM!

Oh, crap.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn...."

Ginny balanced the box on her hip so that she could turn the door knob. It did not turn.

Her profanities took a steep plunge.

She fumbled for her wand. It should be in one of the large side pockets of her night shirt. She stashed it there before she came outside. She remembered putting it in her pocket. It was only a few seconds ago.

So where the _fuck_ was it?!

Furious, she dropped the box on the porch and ran around to the bedroom window on her tip toes.

"Harry?" she called, hugging herself and hopping from foot to foot.

It was late June, but that did not matter much up in the mountains.

"Harry! I'm outside! Open the door!"

The cabin was built upon a lifted foundation, so the window was too high for her to see inside. She banged on the glass.

"HARRY! Wake up and let me in!"

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The smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs lured Harry out of bed and into the kitchen. A full plate awaited him at their little round table. He scooted in his chair and picked up the fork.

Wow! This was by far the best meal Ginny had ever cooked. The bacon was heavenly, crunchy and juicy and downright delicious. She must have gotten some tips from Molly before they left, since neither he nor Ginny had a talent for cooking. But her attempts were edible, at least, so she took on the chore when they could not eat out.

Then again, she probably brought this back from her mother's. Harry glanced around the empty kitchen, and wondered if she might still be there.

"Ginny?" he called, and got no reply.

Yes, that must be what happened.

He savored the meal, but soon he swallowed the last bite and finished his milk. Now what to do...

Moving in was simple. Settling in felt like staring at a cauldron in Professor Snape's class. Where to even begin?

The mess could wait a bit. This was his first day in his new home, and he had not gotten the time to appreciate it since signing the deed. He went back to the bedroom and put on his robe over his pajamas. Ginny must have unpacked a couple things, for he found his slippers right by the bed. He padded to the front door and stood in the frame, admiring his front yard.

Or "front forest" rather. The grassy yard extended a short ways from the front porch and then vanished at the tree line. He had not noticed before, but there were delicate blue and pink wildflowers scattered about the lawn. Two bright butterflies fluttered past his face and landed on a clump of these growing by the porch steps.

He loved this place. It was so beautiful and so free. Out here, he could do whatever he wanted, be whoever he wanted. And after serving as savior for the wizarding world, he needed some freedom to discover himself.

_What do I want?_

He had not been allowed to ask that question while Voldemort was alive. Now that he could ask it, he did not know how to answer. But the answer did not matter, just so long as he had the freedom to ask.

"Harry?! What the FUCK?!"

Harry jerked in surprise. Ginny was standing by the side of the house, glaring at him in fury. He blinked.

Shivering in nothing but her night clothes, she ran up and pushed past him, muttering a stream of cuss words as she went.

"Do you know how fucking cold it is out there?!" she shrieked from the bedroom.

Harry followed after her, utterly confused. The bedroom door was shut and locked, so he leaned against it and asked, "What were you doing out there?"

"What was I DOING?! I was getting the fucking box that you fucking left outside you fucking...augh! And the fucking door shut so I was stuck outside in the FUCKING COLD because my wand disappeared to wherever the fuck..."

Harry let her talk while he tried to piece together the coherent parts. Ginny embodied the Weasley temper, a trait she inherited from Molly. Most of the time the quirk endeared him, though she certainly did not act endearing when she got like this. Watching Arthur Weasley's example, he had learned that the best way to handle her mood was to remain calm until it passed.

"You got locked outside?" he stupidly asked before he could shut his mouth.

"I was _banging_ on your window! I screamed for help! What the hell were you doing this whole time?!"

"Um...eating breakfast."

Her silence frightened him. Yelling meant she was angry. Silence meant she was about to explode in flames.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He purposely used the pet name to try to sooth her. "I didn't now you were stuck out there! I didn't hear a thing, I swear! I saw the food on the table, and I thought you went to your mother's or something."

The door shot open, and one very pissed off red head glared at him.

"Food? I was out there getting the pots so that I could make breakfast."

Harry tugged her into his arms and rubbed her bare skin, trying to warm her. He felt guilty. She must have been out there for a long time.

"Maybe Molly stopped by," he said as he kissed her hair.

She gave in and hugged him back.

_What a terrible start to the first day of our lives together, _she thought. _Nothing to get superstitious about. Just bad luck._

"What did Mum bring?"

"Bacon and eggs. They're in the kitchen."

Harry walked her to the kitchen. Ginny had specifically requested that her family not drop in on her for a few weeks, but she was hungry and grateful that her mother had done so this one time.

"Um, where is it?" She asked, seeing nothing but an empty kitchen.

Harry suddenly looked ashamed.

"...Whoops. Maybe....maybe that plate was meant for both of us...."

"_Harry James Potter!"_

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Draco bared his razor teeth in frustration. He had hoped the harlot would be so enraged that she would storm back to wherever she came from.

Well, if she was going to persist in existing, then Draco was going to persist in getting rid of her.

The stupid girl should know better. Anyone who disrespected a sprite in their territory was asking for trouble. And with the way the girl pawed at his love....

Well, she was lucky to be dealing with a kind, forgiving sprite like Draco. Most sprites were not lenient with disrespectful house guests. Which meant all of them since not-sprites, especially humans with the exception of his pretty, were barely smarter than animals.

Take the girl for instance. He had shut her out, and she still did not understand that she should leave! He would have to be more direct.

"Don't be mad," his pretty, 'Harry' the human was called, said to the harlot. "I'll make you breakfast and bring it to you in bed. Come on, let's get you under the covers."

The harlot sniffed and let him take her back to the bedroom.

"Right, as if you can cook..." he heard her say as she left.

That gave him an idea.

He hopped down from the cupboard and darted into a concealed round door by the faucet. It opened into a maze of elaborate tunnels that Draco had carved himself years ago. He raced through them until he came to a door that took him outside, right to where the harlot had left the box of human food tools. He used his magic to transport the contents of the box to their proper places in the kitchen. Then he ran back to the kitchen, this time using a door that opened out near the oven.

He danced across the stove top, making sure that the food would burn. Then he flew to the top of the refrigerator and ensured that the food would taste bland when it touched her tongue. If she had not offended him, he might have stopped there. But since she was being so damned persistent and was tricking his Harry into _caring_ for her, he weaved one last nasty spell that would make his mother proud.

He cackled.

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When Harry came back to the kitchen, he heard a high pitched chatter and chirping noise that could have sounded like a cricket laughing. Curious, he searched for the sound, but did not find the insect.

It never occurred to him that the dishes Ginny had gone outside for were now neatly stacked in the cupboards.

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**AN: **This will be the only time that I ask: Please leave a review. Reviews are appreciated, but they aren't required for updates. I usually update every two weeks, sometimes faster.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 2**

**All goes well, but not for her.**

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"Here you go." Harry handed her a plate with two pieces of jam covered toast. "I made you some eggs, but they burned. I don't think you want to try them."

"Thanks," Ginny said, and meant it. With the nastiness of the morning over, she wanted to get started on her and Harry's happy ever after. Their first day in their new home should be spent in bliss, not in anger.

"You know there's a lake not too far from here," Harry said as she took a bite. "If we get a boat, we could go fishing. And in the summer, we can go swimming. It will be like having our own private swimming pool."

"Hmm."

Swimming in a muddy lake was nothing like having a private swimming pool, but Ginny kept her mouth shut. Harry was trying hard to win her over, and she did not want to be a whiny girlfriend.

"And we can start a garden in—"

Harry went completely silent in mid-sentence.

"Wha?" Ginny asked through a mouthful of bread.

Harry swallowed nervously. Ginny followed his stare down to her piece of toast. Her breath stopped.

There, right on the toast that she had taken a second bite out of, twisting around in the red raspberry jam, was a worm.

A worm.

A big...slimy...wiggling..._WORM!_

"AAAAA!"

Harry covered his ears and dodged the plate.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

_One month. If he doesn't come to his senses in one month..._

Ginny hugged the quilt close and shifted on the couch. It was uncomfortable as all hell, but it was the only place she had a chance of sleeping thanks to the damn leak in the roof.

When she told Harry, he had insisted that there was no leak. Hmph. That was because the roof did not leak on precious Harry. Nothing unfortunate ever happened to precious Harry in this place.

She sighed and tried to banish that thinking. The morning of the first day in their new home (take two) would be perfect. Yesterday, she and Harry had agreed, was the practice round.

And there would be no worms.

Her stomach heaved. She was going to do her best to forget that ever happened. Maybe she would ask Hermione to Obliviate her.

_Don't think about that. This a new day. This is a good day._

But her good day would not start with a good sleep. The lumpy couch cushions would not let her rest, and Ginny admitted that she might as well surrender.

With a groan, she sat up and cradled her head with her palms. ...Was that a mouse over there? Ugh.

"Rat infested, worthless dump."

Somewhere a cricket made an odd giggling noise.

_Today's a happy day, Ginny_.

What a load of crap. No happiness existed here, except for the promise that one day she would get to smirk at Harry and say, "Told you so." Ah, yes. She could almost taste the sweet vindication.

But for now she would take this place one day at a time. Since the worm had permanently traumatized her against the thought of breakfast and food altogether, she decided to start unpacking.

She picked up a box labeled "Ginny's Clothes" and carried it into the bedroom. Harry slept soundly, sprawled on the bed. Lucky sod.

She set the box down in the closet, and as she did so, her thumb ran along a sharp edge and over a corner.

"Ow!" she exclaimed in a whisper, pulling her thumb back.

She put her thumb in her mouth and sucked on the painful paper cut.

_Great way to start the morning_, she thought and began unpacking.

She had put the third robe on a hanger when she noticed a small clump of finely shredded fabric in the box. She inspected it.

"Oh please no," she moaned when she recognized the signs.

She lifted up the next robe, and sure enough, the collar was frayed and there was a hole in the front. She gritted her teeth. Stupid mice! She put the garment aside and dug through the box, checking each robe and finding each one damaged.

These were her best clothes! It would cost to get them fixed. She prayed that no one she knew would be in the robe shop, or else she would also have to face the embarrassment when she requested them to be mended.

She dug her favorite robe out of the box and went over it apprehensively. She touched a wet spot.

_No..._

Carefully, she held the garment up and took a delicate sniff.

Ew! She tossed it in revulsion. Never mind about getting them fixed. She would have to buy all new robes. Harry had loads of inheritance to live off of, and he would buy them for her. After all, this was _his fault!_

She gathered the clothes and put them back in the box. To make a point, she set it on the trash bin in the kitchen, where Harry would see it first thing.

She located and opened another box of her clothes, half afraid to look inside.

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"Harry, wake up!"

"Nguh....Gin?"

Harry fumbled for his glasses.

"Did you know that _rats_ have chewed and pissed on all of my clothes?"

"Rats? We don't have rats."

"We do have rats, and they've destroyed everything! I bet they've chewed through our entire wardrobe! Who knows about our other things!" Ginny crossed her arms.

"They chewed through your clothes? My clothes are fine."

"How do you know? Have you checked them?"

"Well, you're the one who unpacked them for me." Harry gestured towards the dresser. "And everything I've tried on has been fine."

Ginny looked confused for second.

"I never...Oh, never mind. The point is, there are rats here, and you need to do something about it!"

"Fine." Harry said, way too tired to argue with her now.

Harry wanted to lounge in bed, but with Ginny's temper running loose, he did not dare. He put on his slippers and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Funny. Ginny had never done much in the way of house chores before. Usually they lived in an ever increasing clutter until one of them cracked. But the new house must have energized her, for his tooth brush and tooth paste lay in their rightful place.

When he finished, he went into the kitchen. His heart warmed when he saw that Ginny had thoughtfully poured him a bowl of cereal. He went to eat in the living room where Ginny was putting their books on the bookshelf.

She kept her back turned to him.

"Hey, we'll buy you some new clothes, alright? It's not so bad," Harry assured her.

"Yeah, I guess so," she responded sullenly.

Harry opened the door to let in the fresh morning air. Then he sat on the couch and munched on his cereal while Ginny sorted.

After a few minutes, she came up to him, holding a picture.

"Look. Ron gave this to me before we left." The picture was of him in his first year. Ron took it at their first Quidditch victory party. "You were so cute."

Harry snorted. 'Cute' did not describe the skinny preteen in the photo. Thankfully he had filled out in his sixth year, although growth spurt would have been nice too.

"Throw it away," he said and made a playful grab for the picture.

She yanked it back.

"I think it's cute," she said.

"Give it."

"No."

This quickly escalated into a wrestling match**. **They were a tangle of limbs when Harry pinned her on the couch and succeeded in seizing the offensive picture.

"You lose."

He kissed her and stroked her flowing hair. A chattering noise, the same one he heard yesterday morning, made him pause.

"What is that?" Ginny asked.

"One very confused cricket," he replied and descended on her neck.

The cricket did not sound like it was laughing anymore. Now it sounded like it was getting strangled. It chittered and chirped furiously, the notes varying back and forth on high and low extremes. He had never heard anything like it before.

He would have been intrigued if he were not so distracted. And the cricket's racket, though fascinating, was not loud enough for him to be bothered. His hand slipped under Ginny's shirt and traveled upwards across her rib cage.

"Mmpf! Hhhrry!"

"What?"

"Something is in my hair!" Ginny pushed him off. "OW! It bit me! What is it?! Get it out!"

"What the...?!"

Something large and dark wriggled in Ginny's hair. In an instinctive, lightening quick movement, Harry grabbed for his wand, but came up empty. Unwilling to abandon the woman he loved to search further, he went after the beast with his bare hands.

"Ginny! Hold still!"

Of course, the command had no effect whatsoever. He did his best to catch her flailing limbs, but without much success. And all the while, the large whatever-it-was in Ginny's hair scratched and bit at her scalp. At last, amidst the chaos, Harry's fist closed over the monster. Ginny let out a yell as he tore it from her hair and held it out at arm's length.

"What the hell?"

It was a squirrel.

All of its frantic squirming ceased. The creature stilled in his grasp and pleaded for mercy with its adorable eyes.

"THAT was in my hair?! _Get rid of it!_"

Ginny shoved him towards the door and ran for the nearest mirror.

Harry caught his breath and carried the small furry rodent outside. It was not like squirrels to come anywhere near humans, much less jump on them. The squirrel must be a pet of the previous owner.

"Sorry, little guy. You can't live with us. The misses doesn't like rodents in her hair."

He patted the squirrel and set it down. With a squeak, it shot off into the trees.

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In his main room, Draco paced and muttered to himself.

Damn bitch. The harlot had overstepped her bounds by polluting his and Harry's home. But she did not stop there. No. She went so far as to _make Harry lust after her!_

He snapped at the air, wishing he could tear the girl to shreds.

This went beyond rudeness. This was an outright declaration of war.

He almost lost it when his pretty was touching the harlot. Only a sliver of intact survival instinct had kept him from flying over there and biting the girl.

He wished the squirrel had rabies. That would teach the bitch a lesson.

He would rework his strategy. He had planned to wait until after the harlot was gone to claim his pretty. That way there would not be any interference, and Harry would be all his. But no more. He was not going to watch his pretty pant over the disgusting harlot until she left.

He must put aside everything his parents taught him about morals and subtlety and patience. This was not about a rude house guest. This was about him defending his husband from an intruder.

Or his soon-to-be-husband, anyway. Technically it was illegal for him to assume a mating prospect and take on the responsibilities before the answer had been given. But that did not apply to this situation, since Harry's answer would obviously be yes.

That was it! He would marry his pretty right away. Then Harry would know that Draco loved him, and he would be faithful until Draco scared the harlot off. And once she disappeared, he and his pretty could meet.

The exit from the main room was a hole overhead, and Draco leaped up into it. He would need materials for his proposal.

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**AN:** Happy New Year! Thank you for the reviews. I know that single chapter stories are hard to comment on, and I'm glad you made the effort. I hope you guys liked this chapter also.

A couple of you wondered how Draco fell in love with Harry. To be honest, I never thought about it. Harry will ask Draco the question later in the story. I'm still thinking up a good response for Draco.

Coming up next: Draco proposes pixie style, and Ginny has another encounter with the wildlife.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 3**

**Ginny gets it, and Harry doesn't.**

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Ginny sifted carefully through the bowl of cereal**. **She hated this wretched place.

She had lived here five days, and she detested it more with every passing hour. She did not understand Harry's optimism. There was nothing likable about this shack, _nothing!_ Of course, misfortune never befell Harry.

"Maybe it's your attitude," Harry had suggested to her yesterday. "Maybe you think bad things will happen, so—"

That was as far as Harry got before Ginny attacked him.

Her attitude did not put bugs and worms in every damn meal she had since she got here. Her attitude did not make her collide with more walls and objects than Tonks. And her attitude did not cover her face in swollen red bug bites, damn it!

This cabin was demonic or cursed or both. She would run away if not for Harry.

Why did she fall in love with a closet outdoors man? Their life was so nice before. They were going to live in a quiet wizarding town, with comforts and people. Harry was going to become an Auror or maybe a Quidditch star, and she would open a beauty shop in town, and they would be happy.

Ginny's spoon picked up a big black beetle. With a cry, she hurled the bowl at the wall with all her strength and brought her fists down hard on the table.

_If he doesn't leave this place then I will!_

The thought was an empty threat. She would not leave Harry.

Yet.

Ginny wiped her eyes. How could she be thinking like this? She and Harry were soul mates, destined to love each other forever.

With a wave of her wand, the bowl floated into the sink, and the scattered cereal bits flew into the trash bin. The beetle was not anywhere to be seen, thank heavens.

Maybe she would take a bath. That would make her feel better. And she could apply her salve that would make the bug bites disappear.

Ginny got up from the table and went to the living room. Since stupid, selfish Harry only unpacked his things, all of her boxes were stacked in the corner, waiting to be sorted. She eyed the box labeled "Ginny's Shoes." She could have sworn she unpacked that one the day before yesterday.

But then, she did not recall much about that day besides the squirrel that tried to murder her.

She checked that the doors and windows were shut. Harry sat outside on the porch steps, drinking a cup of tea. She scowled at the back of his head.

Satisfied that no feral squirrels would break in, Ginny found her bag of bathroom products and proceeded with her mission. She took all of two steps when her foot caught on the rug and she crashed to the floor.

"Aaagh!"

The front door swung open.

"Ginny? Did you trip? Are you alright?"

Harry helped her sit up.

Ginny could not stop herself. She threw a tantrum.

"I hate this place! It's cursed!"

"Sweetie, it's not—"

"IT IS! I want to move! I hate this house!"

"Ginny, you tripped on the rug. It isn't the house's fault."

Ginny thwacked him upside the head.

"It doesn't matter what I do, Harry. This place is trying to kill me!"

"It's just a house..."

Ginny shoved him, too livid to argue with words.

She arrived at the bathroom without anymore 'accidents' and slammed the door shut with a bang that echoed through the house. She muttered a colorful assortment of insults at Harry as she filled the tub and stripped down. When the bath was half full, she settled in, letting the warm water soothe her temper.

Then, for no apparent reason, the water from the facet became icy cold.

She snatched her wand off the nearby toilet seat and cast a heating charm.

"Ha! See? Take that stupid house."

There was that deranged cricket. Weren't crickets supposed to be nocturnal?

She tilted back her head and shut her eyes. She needed this. Days of stress and fighting and tension melted away as she let her mind drift.

The bath took care of her aches and the salve took care of the bug bites. Ginny began to feel like herself. Maybe Harry was sort of right. If she gave this place a chance, maybe—

There was something wiggling by her foot.

Ginny's body shut down, terror locking her muscles. Her eyes were still closed. Did she want to see?

Her leg kicked involuntarily as the wiggly thing slid up towards her thigh and continued coming closer. She opened her eyes.

_Oh FUCK!_

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Harry looked in the direction of Ginny's scream and wondered if he should bother. The girl was going bananas lately.

He stood up to go after her when a mother deer and a spotted fawn stepped cautiously into the front yard.

_Ginny's probably overreacting,_ he thought as he resumed his seat on the porch.

The baby deer chewed on a flower and wagged its tail. No matter what Ginny said, this place was wonderful. Bad stuff would not happen to her if she were more positive.

Ginny kept this place from being perfect. She was so clumsy lately, and every bit of trouble she got in she blamed on the house. Harry half suspected that she did this on purpose to get him to move.

The mother deer and her fawn scampered off at the sound of heavy stomping. The door burst open, and Harry did not need Ginny's ominous shadow to guess that she hovered over him with her hands on her hips.

"_Snake_. In bath tub."

Harry winced, and got to his feet. Ginny despised nature that was not groomed and cuddly. He hoped the poor creature had not been hurt.

At least he had proof that some of Ginny's problems were not faked.

He did not speak to the incensed woman. Gryffindor bravery had limits. So he dutifully marched to the bathroom to handle the situation.

"_Hello. Are you alright? You may climb up my arm," _Harry said to the garden snake in the water.

It thrashed frantically, struggling to escape the porcelain tub. Snakes did not trust strangers, but the bath water was too hot, so this one did not hesitate to wind up Harry's wrist. An anxious tongue flicked his skin.

"_You are the one the little likesss ssso much. Tell him to pick on another sssnake!"_

"_The little?" _Harry asked as he carried the snake outside.

"_Yesss. Annoying bug. I am glad to not be you."_

Harry would have said more, but the snake fled the second Harry touched the grass.

He scratched his head. The snake must be disoriented.

Ginny gave him the silent treatment from that point on. Harry did not attempt to reconcile the frigid interaction between them. Ron had told him that there were times when women had to be mad to stop being mad. Harry assumed this was such a time.

So he kept a safe distance from her and rummaged in his closet for his broom. The 'do nothing' aspect of country life was refreshing, but it was starting to stale. Broom in hand, he prepared to go outside and practice some loops and special maneuvers with his Firebolt.

He sat on the bed and opened his broom cleaning kit. That was when he noticed a note on his end table. He picked up the fine parchment and studied the fancy calligraphy. Had Ginny left this here?

The writing swirled and swooshed into art that formed words. It took him a while to decipher it.

_Dear Harry James Potter,_

_This is to inform you that I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, will make an offer for you. _

_In exchange for accepting my offer, you will receive a place in the prestigious Malfoy lineage and all the associated benefits. You will also receive claim to an expanse of territory, including my kingdom and the kingdoms of my parents._

_Should you accept, there will be no requirements for your dowry. I only ask that you trust me and let me provide for you. You will be expected to leave your family and assimilate with your new one. I will do my best to make this easy for you._

_Awaiting your acceptance,_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

Harry stared. Huh. If this was a joke letter from the Weasley twins, he should turn purple right about now. He checked his skin. Nope, still normal.

What was up with the words 'dowry' and 'new family'? It half sounded like a marriage proposal! But the first part of it mentioned an offer, so most likely this whack job wanted to buy his house, which would not happen.

Harry tucked the letter into a dresser drawer. He would have Hermione read it when he visited her next. He really should learn more about wizard customs, seeing as how he was one and all.

But he was out here to escape from the wizarding world, not to become a part of it. With Ginny's hatred of the place, he wondered if he would have to live this dream alone.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

Draco's wings beat erratically with excitement as he watched Harry put away the letter. Harry's care in the action must mean that he anticipated Draco's offer, which meant he was not as attached to the harlot as Draco had feared.

The letter was almost rude in its straightforwardness, but Harry did not know of sprite mating rituals, and Draco did not want the message to be misinterpreted. He made sure that his final draft was plain enough that Harry could not possibly get the wrong idea.

Now the only thing to do was put together an offer. He had to be picky. An over zealous offer could put off his husband and an inadequate offer would offend him. Also, Harry needed something special, an offer that would have significance to wizards and sprites so that the marriage would be authentic for them both.

But figuring that out could wait until Harry slept.

Draco entered into the tunnels and followed the sound of Harry's footsteps through the house. He peered out by the kitchen ceiling light, and saw his pretty take a carton of juice from the fridge. The harlot was at the stove, cooking a cheese sandwich.

"Glasses are over there," the harlot said snidely before the carton touched Harry's lips.

Draco cupped his hands over his mouth and blew air into his palms.

The girl yelped as her sandwich burst into flames.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

Ginny leaped back from the stove and searched for something to put out the fire. Harry, always the hero, blocked her from the flames with his body.

When he moved aside, Ginny was staring down at her grilled cheese sandwich, burned from the flames and soggy with the juice Harry used to extinguish them.

Her stomach rumbled.

She covered her face with her hands and left the kitchen crying.

"Babe? Sweetheart? Are you okay?"

If she responded to that idiotic question, she might go hoarse and never get her voice back.

She grabbed the floo powder off the fireplace.

"Honey, where are you going?"

She shook her head. He tried to put his arms around her, but she slapped them away. She hesitated and took a couple deep breaths. If her voice broke, she could end up anywhere.

When she calmed down enough, she shouted "Hermione's!" and jumped into the grate.

Several hours of crying and talking later, Ginny ran out of things to say. Hermione listened and consoled, her brow coming together in thought every now and then. Ron had left almost immediately, uncomfortable with the man-hate talk in his kitchen. Considering all the cuss words and castration promises coming out of Ginny's mouth, he was not likely to return that weekend.

Eventually Ginny's anger drained and left her sad. She sat at the table with Hermione and sipped her tea.

Would Harry come looking for her? It hurt to think about breaking up with him, but she was not going back to that place. She had tried to like it. She had been nothing but a perfect, self-sacrificing girlfriend for the past week.

"I can't go back," she told Hermione. "If he decides to stay, I'm not going back."

"He won't stay. Something is not right with that place. Wildlife doesn't act the way you described. Animals do everything they can to avoid humans, not seek them out."

Hermione's tone meant that she was solving some complicated puzzle. Ginny waited.

"If I'm right, Harry is in danger."

"Danger? But the bad stuff happens to me, not Harry."

"I know. But pixie's are unpredictable. They act in ways that only make sense to them. I'll check with Hagrid to make sure, but I think there is one in that house. We'll have to trap it before Harry gets hurt."

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**AN:** Thank you for reviewing! All of you keep me writing when I'd rather quit. :) I'm working on Chapter 6 now.

Coming up next: Harry gets married, and Hermione interferes.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Mischief**_

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**Chapter 4**

**Harry gets married.**

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

Harry mulled around the house listlessly.

Unsurprisingly, Ginny had not come back last night. He should go after her and apologize, but then he would have to be patient and doling, and that would take too much effort.

If he ignored the empty atmosphere, pretended for a second that Ginny had gone shopping, he was sort of happy to be alone. He did not get alone time often, and the cessation of the drama and yelling of the past few days was a relief.

And knowing that he was relieved sprung a big mess of confused feelings. Did he really want to get Ginny back? Was he grateful she had left?

He liked Ginny, but sometimes their relationship became a quandary that he could not navigate. And sometimes, though he would never confide it to anyone, he contemplated leaving her.

He and Ginny had been a couple since his sixth year of Hogwarts. A life without her was scary to imagine. And since the Weasleys were all that he had to call family, breaking up with her could cause repercussions beyond his romantic life.

Ginny was his second scar, another role forced upon him. Everyone expected him to marry Ginny the same way they had expected him to kill Voldemort. Harry was getting sick of doing what people expected.

He shook his head to disperse his thoughts.

No. He loved Ginny. He would not find another girl like her. And he had better get his butt to Hermione's before she decided not to take him back. Later, when they were at ease with each other again, he would be glad that he did.

The cricket started up, soft and musical.

He had to find that insect. The funny chirp amused him, but Harry wanted the bug outside so it could live a proper cricket life. Harry listened and followed the noise, intent on finding the cricket. He had tried before, but the sound always stopped when he got close.

He tracked the sound into the kitchen, and paused at the sight of a large bouquet. Where had this come from?

The exotic red and gold flowers were no doubt expensive. Had Ginny left them here? That would be a first. Ginny never apologized for anything, and gifts were for holidays. He picked up the attached card.

_Please accept, my love._

Accept what? The comma must be a typo. Or maybe Ginny meant, "Please accept my apologies, my love." The elegant writing on the card was familiar, but he could not place it at the moment.

Next to the bouquet was a small crystal bowl filled with red berries. Harry plucked one, examined it, and then popped it in his mouth.

He had never tasted anything like it. Sweet and juicy, and the vanilla-like flavor ensnared him. He pulled out a chair, sat, and eagerly finished the bowl. Then he noticed a box of truffles behind the vase, and he ate that too. All of it was delicious.

He wondered why Ginny had not stuck around, but figured that she still wanted him to come retrieve her. Maybe this was a guilt present and not an apology present. Either way, the berries were worth the chore of dragging himself to her and apologizing.

But first, he carried the vase of flowers around the house, searching for a spot to display them. He chose his dresser, where the sunlight would hit them nicely in the morning time.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

Draco held back his nervous muttering. Harry's answer would be yes. He was Draco Malfoy, the only heir to the Malfoy lineage, and no person on the planet would reject a marriage with him. He knew that, but it did not stop his stomach from flip flopping as Harry regarded his offer.

_Please accept._

In his haste to marry, the offer was less than it could have been, but he felt that it was the best he could do on such short notice.

He did not know of the ceremonies for human mating unions, but he knew some of the courting behaviors. Humans often gave flowers and candy as love presents, so he made sure to include some in the offer. The flowers he had sculpted himself from wild roses, using the techniques his mother decorated with. The truffles he stole, and the berries he harvested.

The flowers and candy were there for Harry's benefit. The berries were his true offer. Never had a human tasted a delicacy from a sprite garden before. The berries were rare, and his family was one of few privileged enough to grow them in their gardens. They signified the Malfoy status and the luxuries that Draco would provide for his husband.

Draco held his breath as Harry lifted the berries up and bit into one.

_Yes!_

Joy flooded him. Harry had accepted his offer! They were mated now and he did not have to worry about the harlot's advances.

Though his mate could not hear the high sound with human ears, he sang for their marriage, loud and victorious. He danced, spinning in circles and beating his wings while Harry finished the berries and moved on to the truffles.

With the harlot gone and the two of them married, Draco could finally meet his pretty in person and introduce himself. He dashed to his main room. He had a lot of work to do before he could bring Harry home and consummate their bond.

Harry would be ignorant of the ways of sprites, and Draco wanted his adjustment to be as smooth as possible. He transformed the room from a dome to a rectangle, since humans liked to live in boxes. He added carved human furnishings, like chairs, a couch, and a table. He mimicked Harry's furniture as best he could so that his pretty would feel at home.

Elated and impatient, he did not hear arrival of two girls nor the conversation in Harry's living room.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

"Harry?" Ginny called.

Should he be happy to see her or apologetic? He decided to strive for neutral. Then he saw Ginny _and_ Hermione standing in his living room. He was screwed.

"Uh, hi guys."

"Harry!" Ginny surprised him by rushing up and hugging him tightly. "Are you alright? Did the pixie do anything bad?"

She stepped away and looked him over.

"Pixie? What are you talking about?"

"You know," Hermione said. "You guys make the perfect pair. You're both as dense as rocks. I can't believe one of you didn't guess that magic was involved here. Especially you, Harry."

"It's pixies that have been torturing us," Ginny explained. "The squirrel, the worm, me getting locked outside. All of it."

"Most pixies live in the woods, but every once in a while one will nest in a house," Hermione said.

"Wait, wait." It was hard to keep up with the babbling girls. "How do you know there's a pixie? What's the problem anyway?"

"What's the problem? Harry, I almost ate a worm!"

"Yes. And how did that worm get there? Wouldn't you notice a worm when you spread the jam? Don't you think one of you would have seen it fall from the sky?"

"Um..."

Hermione had a point.

"Then why only Ginny?"

"It's a pixie game," Hermione said. "Pixies like to cause mischief in the lives of humans. I think it liked watching you two fight."

Harry had to admit that it did make a bit of sense in wizarding terms. But there was also a big possibility that Hermione was mistaking coincidence for conspiracy.

"So what am I supposed to do? Move?"

"You don't have to move, but it might be best if you left for awhile. We don't know what the game is, and you're one of the quarries. Ginny and I are going to trap it."

"See? Hagrid helped us make it." Ginny held up a small cage in one hand. It was made of thin white twigs tied together with twine.

"Hang on. A game?"

"Pixies like to play games, but they don't tell you the rules to win. We covered this with Remus in Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said as if that meant he should recall every word of the lesson.

"Well, you two have fun. I'm gonna finish my dinner."

Clearly he had no say in this. Pissed off Voldemort he could handle. Excited pair of girls, no thanks.

The girls stared from the living room as Harry went into the kitchen and sat down to a plate of honey glazed ham and creamy mashed potatoes.

"_Harry..._" Hermione said sweetly, "Where did you get that?"

"What? The food?"

"Yes. Did Dobby visit you?"

"Probably. It was on the counter." Harry looked at the plate and then up at Hermione. "Oh. I'm sorry. Did you leave it here?"

"Oh my god." Ginny smacked her forehead with her palm.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. The two girls watched Harry, waiting for him to say something.

He put a forkful of ham in his mouth and chewed.

Ginny broke first.

"No, we didn't leave it, you moron," Ginny said. "It's the pixie!"

"Let me guess," Hermione said. "This happens often."

"Yes. He's always eating some wonderful home cooked meal. I've been so miserable and mad, I didn't think anything of it."

"Um..." Food _had _been showing up mysteriously over the last week or so, but it could have been Dobby or Mrs. Weasley. But then, it did not make much sense for those people to visit him and not say hello.

He coughed and tried to ignore his embarrassed blush. Fortunately, Hermione provided a distraction.

"I've never read anything like this. Even if the pixie was trying to make the two of you fight, it wouldn't give Harry any special treatment beyond not tormenting him. Pixies consider humans to be livestock, so Harry would be beneath the creature's notice. Unless...." A dangerous gleam lit up Hermione's eyes. "I think I know what to use as bait. Harry, you can stay at my house."

"Wait, why?"

She spoke as if Harry was a dumb child.

"Because, dear. We don't want the pixie to damage you."

Harry frowned.

"I don't see why this pixie hunting business should kick me out of my home. You don't even know if there is a pixie."

Ginny whacked him over the head, a developing habit.

Harry knew how to pick his battles, so he conceded to go to Hermione's place. However, he did not let the girls talk him out of taking his dinner with him. Pixie or no pixie, the ham and potatoes were the best he had ever tasted.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

Draco popped out of a tunnel that opened up underneath Harry's bed.

It was time!

He took care not to drop the heavy clay pot in his hands. It had taken him two weeks to gather the ingredients and perform the chants, dances, and rituals. If he spilled it, he would hate himself.

Draco began making the dust soon after his pretty moved in. He had worked the last three days straight with little sleep to get it finished for their marriage.

Holding the lid tight on the pot, he flew to hover over Harry's bed, surprised to find it empty. It was three in the morning. Could Harry be up? Draco's spells should have protected the boy from restless sleep.

Draco listened, but no footsteps or rustling of humans could be heard. What happened while he was gone? Had the harlot come back and done something with Harry?

He growled, and flew into the living room, searching for clues.

He nearly dropped from the air at what he saw on the coffee table.

It was Harry. Except he was Draco's size, and he was trapped.

Draco made a careless landing, tucking the pot into his stomach and tumbling across the surface of the table.

"Harry?!"

Harry did not answer. Draco repeated himself, and then realized that his mate could not understand him yet. He continued talking anyways, hoping his voice would reassure his love as he went over the cage, looking for a way in.

The harlot had trapped him! His pretty must have announced their marriage to get rid of her, and she cursed him out of spite!

He kept his anger from showing so as not to frighten Harry.

The prison was frail, simple thin sticks twined together. It appeared easy to get in, but Draco sensed trickery. Once, his father said to be careful around cages, that if he ever saw one he must turn away and have nothing to do with it.

He would heed his father's words after he freed Harry. Harry did not belong in a cage. Harry belonged with Draco. And when he delivered his husband someplace safe, he would come back for his revenge.

He flitted about and sent tendrils of magic to feel the spells coating the prison. Harry watched him calmly. Draco suspected he was spelled or drugged.

"Don't worry, love," he said to his mate. "I'm going to get you out. I'm Draco. I'll have to introduce myself again later, when you can understand me."

Hopefully the boy would hear the kindness in his tone.

The wood of the cage was yew, a material used in the wands of powerful wizards since the grain absorbed wizard magic well. It would take days for Draco to expel a curse from the bars. Draco hovered closer to examine the twine, hoping it was a more malleable substance. He flew backwards when Harry stretched his arm through the bars of the cage.

"What is it, love?"

The handsome features were stoic and expressionless. He stared at Draco with glassy eyes that occasionally blinked. His palm faced up, as if he beckoned for Draco. But the stiff pose was unnatural, and he did not speak.

"I'm going to get you out. Don't worry."

Draco listened to his magic crackle and recede every time he sent it towards the cage. He would need help to root out the enchantments, but he did not want to leave Harry.

If he stayed in one place for more than a few seconds, Harry would extend his hand for him anew. Draco did not touch him, but continued to assure that he would find a way to release him.

At last, he found a starting point. At this spot, the grain of the wood swirled tightly in a small knot. Here the wizard spells could not flow well through the spiral, and Draco could leak the curses from the wood.

Draco closed his eyes and hummed a rhythm. When his blood swelled with his magic and his intention, he bit the tip of his finger so that a drop of blood sprang up. He reached for the weak point.

But before he could touch the spot and begin curing the wood, Harry's hand shot out and latched onto his wrist.

Alarmed, Draco jumped back.

Then he was staring at the bars of the cage. From the inside. And Harry had vanished.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**AN:** I hope this chapter is okay. I had to edit it four times to get it to this point, and editing is my enemy. That's why this chapter took longer than usual.

The next chapter will also require some rewriting, but I will fight to get it to you guys in two weeks or less. (buckles on a helmet)

I've hit writer's fatigue. This story is pre-written through the first 20,000 words so updates will still come semi-regularly. I haven't written much since the last update, but that changes now. I'm starting Chapter 8 tomorrow. :)

Thank you everyone for your kind words and encouragement.

Coming up next: Harry meets Draco.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Mischief**_

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**Chapter 5**

**That's not a cricket.**

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and into his home.

"We caught it!" Hermione said from another room.

Ginny practically bowled him over as she ran to Hermione.

"What did we catch?" Harry asked grumpily as he followed after her. He had not had fun at Hermione's. The girls talked and rebuked him all night, and Ron was no where to be seen. Most likely his friend had turned tail and left him to flounder.

"This!" Ginny thrust the cage in front of his face.

Harry jerked backwards at what he saw. A tiny, brown, sort-of-human figure rattled against the wooden bars. It was an ugly, hairless thing. Its fingers extended into long needle-like claws, and it bared sharp needle teeth at Ginny. It had clear wings that moved as quick as a hummingbird's.

It saw Harry. Its snarl faded, but then Ginny shook the cage.

"You stupid little beetle!"

Harry snatched the cage from her and held it out of her reach.

"Ginny, don't do that."

"Why not? That beast ruined my clothes! And what about the snake?"

"He's right," Hermione said. "You shouldn't be cruel to him. He's defenseless in there."

Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"Fine." She glared at the pixie in Harry's hands. "But wait until we give you to Ministry," she said to it.

"The ministry?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione.

Hermione's excitement faded. She sounded sad when she said, "We have to give him to the Department of Magical Creatures for processing."

'Processing' at the Department of Magical Creatures could mean anything, and none of it boded well for the magical creature. Harry knew plenty of the department's practices and atrocities from Remus. Not to mention Dobby, Hagrid, and the centaurs.

"No way." Harry was surprised that Hermione would give anything to the Department of Magical Creatures. She loved Remus as much as he did. And she was the one who set up SPEW for house elves. And they both knew the trouble Hagrid had with that department on a regular basis. "We'll just set him free."

Hermione shook her head. "We can't do that. Pixies are dangerous and stubborn. Once you cross a pixie, they'll be after you until they get revenge. And you don't want that." Hermione frowned at him. He could tell that she didn't like what she had to say. "He isn't bad, Harry. It's just that pixies don't see humans or anything else on the same level as them. We might as well be ants, and he doesn't care what happens to us. He might kill us all or worse."

Harry held the cage up to his face and peered closely at the thing. He could easily imagine this little creature as a monster. Its long teeth did not fit in its mouth, giving it a horrific smile up close. If the pixie was bigger, Harry would try to kill it outright.

But Remus in his werewolf form scared him too. And what had happened to Ginny? A snake in her bath tub? A worm in her food? The Weasley twins pulled pranks more harmful than that.

"I'm not giving it to the Department of Magical Creatures. We'll just release it far away."

"You could release it in Australia, and it would be back tomorrow," Hermione said. "Once you enter a pixie's territory, they can find you instantly and anywhere. He's too dangerous, Harry. Even Hagrid says so, and you know how he is."

He considered the ugly brown thing. Hagrid could kiss a thestral, so if he agreed then Hermione must be right. But it did not make sense. So far the worse thing the pixie had done to Harry was feed him three times a day. How could that warrant a death sentence?

"I'm going to keep him for awhile."

"Harry!" Ginny whined.

"Maybe I can talk to him."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, I wish there was another way, but there isn't. That cage won't hold forever you know. His magic is wearing it down as we speak."

"How long will it hold?"

"About a week. Five or six days, I think."

"Then I'm going to keep him until then."

"There are some things you can't save," Ginny said.

"The books say—"

Harry cut off Hermione with, "Books say a lot of things about werewolves too."

His mind made up, Harry carried the cage to the kitchen and set it carefully on the counter.

"Just promise me you won't release it?"

"I won't release him until I know he won't harm anyone."

Hermione's tone was regretful, as if she wanted to agree with him but could not. "Even if the pixie did decide to forgive and forget, a pixie that is interested in humans is dangerous to everyone. If not us, it will be someone else."

Harry eyed the pixie. It still tried to claw its way out.

"Nothing bad has happened to me since I got here. I'd say he's mad at Ginny for something. Maybe she stepped on him by accident."

"Harry, don't be stupid," Ginny said.

"I don't think he likes either of you. I think you guys should leave so I can talk to him."

"Harry, that's not—"

"I don't believe this! You're taking _its _side! Your defending it after everything it's done to me!" Ginny yelled.

"He never bothered me so you must have offended him. And he didn't do anything to deserve being imprisoned or put down. After I find out why he's mad at you, you're going to apologize and set him free."

The plan spilled out of his mouth without any conscious thought. But it sounded good enough, so Harry decided to go with it.

Ginny glared at him. Then she looked at the trapped pixie and strangely seemed amused.

"Fine. Stay here with that stupid thing. I'm going to Hermione's. Let me know how it turns out in a week."

Ginny grabbed Hermione's shirt sleeve and dragged her towards the fireplace.

"Ginny, we can't leave." But Ginny would not listen to her, and she pulled Hermione along. "Don't let it out, Harry!" Hermione called. "No matter what, don't let it out!"

When they were gone, Harry heaved a sigh of relief and sagged into a dining chair.

With Ginny out of sight, the vicious pixie twisted his head this way and that as if he were just seeing the room. Then he focused on Harry.

Harry watched in astonishment as the pixie's appearance melted and faded from a hairless brown monster to a boy. The tough brown hide faded to pale white skin, and the claws became normal human hands. No longer was Harry looking at a pixie. Now he was looking at a little winged man.

Was this an illusion?

The boy looked at him from between the bars.

"Hello," Harry said.

The boy responded with a click and a trill that Harry recognized immediately. He broke into a wide grin. So this was the cricket that sounded so odd! He felt a little embarrassed, especially when he remembered how he had once searched for the 'cricket' with a glass jar.

"Do you speak English?"

Another trill answered his question.

Hmm. How would he communicate then?

"Can you understand me?"

Harry had to put his face close to see that the pixie nodded.

That was a start. He pondered for a bit what to say.

The pixie did not seem so dangerous and nasty anymore. The boy in the cage was kind of cute. He wore a tiny tunic and tiny trousers. He was barefoot, and he had spiky blonde hair. Sticking out of his hair were two little pointed ears. He had to focus to see the boy's face. The pixie had perfect pink lips, high cheek bones, and large eyes. He would be beautiful if he were human and full size.

Harry wondered if this was the pixie's true form or if it was a trick. He decided he had better learn about pixies before he tried having a conversation with one.

"Are you hungry?"

The little one shook his head.

Showing kindness and mercy did a lot for interacting with magical creatures. Harry always felt bad when magical creatures were uneasy being treated so by a wizard.

Hermione felt the same. It disturbed him that she did not defend the pixie. He would listen to her warnings, but he was determined to resolve this without processing from the Department of Magical Creatures.

"I'm sorry. I guess you must hate me."

The little one shook his head again. He chirped, and it sounded like a question.

"I can't let you out until you promise to not hurt Ginny, or any of us."

He did not look happy at that. In an instant, his form shifted back to the brown, clawed monster. He snapped at the bars, trying to tear at them with his fearsome elongated fangs. In spite of himself, Harry leaned away, worried that the thin twigs would break.

The form shifted back. The pixie chattered softly, as if giving a reassurance.

Harry supposed the pixie's transformation meant Ginny was still in trouble. He could not explain why, but he did not think that the pixie disliked Harry. But Ginny was another story. Harry did not see how something so small could be so terrible, but Ginny could suffer if he did not heed Hermione.

He studied the small trapped thing. First, he had to do his research so that he knew what he was dealing with. Fortunately, Hermione had left a pile of books behind. He retrieved one and sat at the kitchen table. As an afterthought, he moved the cage so that the little guy could also see what he was reading.

According to the book, pixies were very dangerous indeed. The book explained that pixie magic was different from wizard magic. Wizard spells did nothing to break a pixie curse or affect an object beset by pixie magic. The book went on to describe some of the things pixies could do. It mentioned mind control, apparating multiple objects from far away and communicating with animals.

Harry looked at the little guy with new amazement. His eyes were not on the book at all but on Harry. He trilled, and it sounded like a question. Seconds passed, and when Harry did not respond, he launched into a musical melody.

Confused, Harry wished he could understand the pixie.

The book went on to say that many wizards throughout history had captured pixies in hopes of duplicating some of the pixie spells. Harry shut the book immediately. He did not want to remind the pixie why he should take up a personal vendetta against wizards.

He retrieved another. This one was about wizards caught in pixie curses. The book said that pixies liked to invent games on the spot and watch wizards suffer while playing. A pixie game was a set of rules that must be followed and a set of obstacles that must be overcome in order to break a pixie curse. The game could be simple, like replacing an object to its original location, or it could be very complicated.

One wizard trapped in a pixie game had to marry a noblewoman, which he somehow achieved despite being a commoner and being turned into a mouse. Another wizard was a man by day and a horse by night until he could find a yellow rose with one white petal. As the list went on, it seemed that pixies had a fondness for turning wizards into animals.

The book held an illustration of a pixie that jumped around and acted like it would bite him. It was the naked brown creature with pointy teeth and long claws.

He was startled by the loud shrieking chirps the pixie suddenly let out. He shut the book and tossed it to the floor. After a few more trills, the pixie calmed down. Then he spread his arms and turned up his palms, as if indicating that he would not hurt Harry.

Harry believed him. If the pixie disliked him then he would likely have been turned into goat or something when he moved in. But Ginny was another matter.

"Are you thirsty?"

The little guy shook his head, but Harry went rummaging in the cupboards anyway. He filled a blue bottle cap with water and gingerly placed it in the cage.

Then he flipped through the remaining three books. They were all very detailed on pixie magic and nastiness, but none of them held what he wanted. There was no mention of pixie culture, of how the pixies lived and what they did when they were not tormenting wizards. They did not say what pixies ate with those needle teeth. They did not even talk about the pixie language beyond a brief paragraph.

He supposed that wizards did not want to take the risk of being turned into an animal to learn about the pixies. All the books agreed that pixies were best left alone, and good luck to anyone ensnared in a pixie game.

Well, he was Harry Potter, and he would figure out something.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**AN: ** I have this nagging feeling that this chapter could have been much more exciting, but you guys would probably have to wait for months before I was satisfied. And I wish I could have comfortably worked Draco's POV in there somewhere. The first draft had it, but it was too clunky.

I hope nobody freaked out at Draco's first description. I thought it would make more sense for Hermione not to defend him if he was some freakish ugly thing.

Anyway, I'm not writing ahead until I get chapter six up. I will try to update soon and make up for this one being so late. Pinky swear!

Coming up next: Harry takes care of caged Draco, but it's not going well.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 6**

**Communication is the key.  
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Harry pushed a small apple piece into the cage. The pixie sat cross legged with his chin propped up on one hand. He did not look at the food, only at Harry.

"You have to eat," Harry said. "What about an orange?" He held up an orange slice. "Or a raspberry? Or a peach?" He pointed to each fruit as he said them, but the pixie did not change his glance. "Syrup?"

Hagrid said that pixies liked sugar and mostly ate sugary fruits. Syrup was supposed to be like a candy bar to them, but his little prisoner continued to watch him dully.

Harry wanted to bang his head against the table. Days had passed with the pixie in captivity. The winged boy accepted water, but did not touch food, though Harry did everything he could to coax the boy to eat. He even went to a farm and purchased fresh organic fruit directly.

Harry worried that the little guy would starve himself to death. But what made Harry hate himself, what almost convinced him to open the cage no matter what Hermione or Ginny said, was the depression. Twice he had caught the pixie sobbing, though the boy was quick to hide it. And the rest of the time he just watched Harry sadly.

Harry hated this. When those small blueish eyes fixed on him, uncomfortable memories of Sirius would drift through his head. Sirius's suffering had not ended when he escaped Azkaban. Harry did not wish that on anyone.

But what else could he do? The pixie did not speak, but his reaction to Ginny's name made it clear that she was not pardoned. And Hagrid stood by Hermione's opinion that, for once, the Department of Magical Creatures would do what was best.

A tiny, featherlight touch brought him out of his thoughts. He had rested his hand near the cage, and the pixie extended his arm through the wooden bars to touch his palm. The tiny hand on his made him wonder about how the pixie saw the world. Harry must be absolutely huge to the little guy, larger than a skyscraper.

Hagrid and Hermione did not see these affectionate gestures. When Harry had tried to bring them to his side, the pixie would change to that furious brown thing, clawing and snapping. He had given up early on that idea. Besides the lack of support, the pixie's comfort had become his first priority.

Hermione had dropped in on him a couple times, and Harry had kept her away from the little guy, physically herding her when necessary. Fed up, Harry threatened to remove his fireplace from the floo network if one more girl stepped out without invitation. Hermione took offense, but agreed. Harry would apologize later, but he was glad to have the girls out of his hair for awhile.

Fortunately, Hermione could never stay mad at him long. Not the way Ginny could.

During Hermione's visits, Harry forgot to ask about Ginny, forgot to inquire about her feelings or her well-being. The notion had not caused so much as a ripple in his mind.

That was because he did not care. But he did care about not caring.

_She's mean to the little guy._

But she had reason to be, and Harry should still love her.

_I'm tired._

That must be it.

"She's irritating when she doesn't get what she wants," he muttered to himself.

His hand tickled where the pixie patted him.

The little guy was fast approaching the expiration date the girls had set.

"Do you want to watch TV?"

The pixie said no.

Against all odds, Harry had somehow come to understand some of the pixie language. A quick, high chirp meant 'yes', and a short, level click meant 'no.' A musical trill cut off by a low note meant 'Harry.' Or 'human' or a derogatory pixie word that Harry did not know. In any case, the pixie used it to get his attention.

The pixie said his name and pointed one finger at Harry. Then he pointed to himself. And then he made a symbol with his hands, his thumb and index fingers touching. Harry had to move his face closer and squint to see the heart shape the pixie's fingers made.

He tried to puzzle out what that could mean. With his handful of pixie words and crude sign language, he and the pixie could communicate well, if primitively. But this sign was new.

"You want an apple?"

The pixie grimaced and repeated the series of signals.

Harry inventoried everything in his house that might look kind of like a heart. The item could not be in the room, or else the pixie would point and use high or low notes to let Harry know when he was getting closer.

"You want...."

The little guy shook his head and reached through the bars, flexing his hands like a child grabbing for him. Harry gave the pixie his hand again, palm up. He nearly snatched it back when the pixie suddenly kissed his thumb and repeated the signal.

"Um...You like me?"

The pixie grinned and nodded.

Kissing meant all kinds of things in other cultures, and it was not exclusive to romance. Harry guessed that the little guy wanted to express friendship or maybe forgiveness. He was touched.

"Oh. Thank you."

He could not hear the pixie huff, but he could tell his response was inadequate.

"I like you too." That would have to do. It was not like he could return the kiss.

The pixie covered his face with his hands. Harry was at loss, and wondered what he was doing wrong. He wished Hermione would show up with some long lost book explaining all about pixies and their mysterious ways. That intrusion he would welcome.

Seeing that Harry was perplexed, the little guy gave him a friendly smile, as if to say that he forgave Harry for whatever offenses he committed. Harry was used to this smile, and he liked it. He did not believe that his friend was leading him on or tricking him as Hermione insisted.

"Listen. You and I have to come up with some kind of agreement about Ginny." In less than 24 hours, he added to himself. "I want to let you out, but I can't until you agree to leave her alone."

The pixie did not transform into the brown thing. But he did open his mouth wide and bare his teeth, which got his point across sufficiently.

"No," Harry said. "You have to work with me here. I want to let you out, but first you have to forgive Ginny."

The pixie emitted a sound that he knew to be the pixie's version of a growl.

"Why do you hate her so much?"

The pixie exploded in fast and furious chatter. Harry should not have asked. Obviously, the pixie hated Ginny because she trapped him. Not for the first time, Harry was reminded of Death Eaters and being held prisoner by them. They had told him some of the same things. Do this or say that, and we will set you free.

He told himself that this was different. Somehow.

He let the pixie rant for a bit. Though he did not understand a syllable in it, he knew the vilest words were the quickest and lowest in pitch.

"Okay, okay. I know it's stupid and unfair. She's the one who caged you, and now you have to forgive her to get out. But if you do, you can go on as if you never met her." Harry was careful to assign all blame to Ginny and leave Hermione out of it. It was hard enough getting the little guy to forgive one human.

The pixie cut off. He seemed to be thinking. Then he rattled the bars of his cage, motioned to indicate the bars around him, and shook his head.

If that meant what he thought, then Harry had been approaching this all wrong.

"You're not mad because she trapped you?"

The pixie nodded.

"Then why?"

He pointed at Harry, swept his arm from left to right, then pointed at the space between Harry and himself. He flashed his teeth and snarled.

Harry had to think over the gestures before their meaning became clear.

"I see. You're mad because this is your home, and she moved in."

He hesitated, but nodded.

There was probably more to it than that, but Harry doubted it could get through their language barrier. But at least he had this much.

"Very well. She will move out immediately." The pixie looked pleased. "And you can have your home to yourself again." The pixie looked displeased. He pointed to Harry and to the table below him.

"I'm allowed to stay?"

The pixie nodded.

"Well, thank you, but I think we will be moving to Hogsmeade. There's a flat Ginny liked there—"

He stopped when the furious chatter rose up again. He wondered where he had gone wrong, and realized that refusing an invitation might be a huge offense in pixie culture. He had to reverse the damage.

"But, of course, I will come to visit."

It did not help. The pixie went on until, eventually, the loud angry cricket sounds died down to a disgruntled murmur. The pixie sat in the cage with his back to Harry, a sign that he was through talking for a few hours.

Harry needed to keep talking, to find some sort of common ground before tomorrow morning. But he also had to respect the pixie's privacy, what little there was.

Harry placed the pieces of fruit up against the bars, so that the pixie could eat if he wished. Then Harry went to living room and picked up one of the books on his coffee table.

He flipped through the pages, only reading a few words that stood out here and there. Words like "sadistic" and "unpredictable." The book was titled _Psyche of the Pixie,_ and reading it felt like reading the Quibbler. There could be some truth on the pages, but it was distorted by myth and imagination.

Harry had already read the important bits. Now he searched for encouragement, something to make him remember why he let a person starve to death in his kitchen over a few pranks.

The more Harry thought about the crimes, the more ridiculous the punishment sounded. But even Hagrid agreed with the books. And Hagrid would know, wouldn't he?

But Hagrid had never seen a pixie the way Harry had. He found Harry's description interesting, but disbelieved that pixies could transform. Hermione wore the same expression when Harry tried to convince her.

Maybe most pixies were like the books said. But surely not the one in his kitchen. The pixie was friendly with him, and Harry did not think it was pretense. In all species, there were exceptions. Harry knew of vampires who abstained to the point of suicide and of humans that could make Fenrir Greyback cringe. So maybe this pixie was an exception too?

Harry checked the clock. If the girls came over in the morning, then he had some time. But if they decided to show up tonight, which Harry half suspected, then he only had a few hours to make his decision. Whatever he decided, an innocent life could be at risk, and he had to make sure he could live with the consequences.

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Draco sat in the middle of the cage, his knees pulled to his chest and his hands clasped around his ankles.

Was it possible to be more miserable? How could the harlot have won? How could he have been tricked into such an old trap?

He had not expected the stupid harlot to do anything clever. Well, if he got out there would be no more mistakes. The harlot would pay painfully and completely.

Nighttime had come. Draco was sure that something worse than imprisonment would happen in the morning. Harry cared for him diligently, putting him in front of the storytelling box or urging him to eat. But today he had hovered and pleaded without rest.

Whatever she did to him, Draco would not agree to spare her. She was the most disgusting, vile, evil, filthy....

He took a deep breath. That kind of thinking would have him clawing at the bars again, and he was exhausted. And starved.

His pretty offered him all sorts of things to eat. He was nice about it, and Draco appreciated the efforts. But accepting to be fed like a pet would be worse than dying.

Of course, he did not blame Harry for his treatment. He blamed the harlot.

The worst of it was that Harry was his husband, and Draco could not tell him. And should he die, he hated to think of what his pretty would do without him. Harry waited for his spouse to claim him, and when no one came the hurt would be terrible.

But there was nothing he could do. His magic sapped the strength from the wood, but Draco suspected that the harlot knew that. Tomorrow he would be free or he would suffer whatever fate the bitch planned.

If only his magic would work outside the cage! Then Harry would know him and set him free.

Draco was surprised when the light came on, and his love walked in. It was late, and Harry should have been asleep.

"Hey there. How are you doing?"

Draco gave him a simple, "Well." He always made an effort to speak to Harry.

"Look, I know you hate being stuck in there. I hate keeping you in there. So just promise me that you will leave Ginny and the rest of us alone, and I can let you out."

"No." He always answered the same. This request he would not grant, not for his freedom or for his pretty. The harlot had come between him and his newly mated, manipulated Harry and endangered them both. No sprite could forgive that transgression.

Harry scrubbed a hand in his hair and sighed.

"Alright. Look. I don't like cages. I lived in one for a long time, and I'm sick of them."

Draco jerked his head in Harry's direction. Who had put his love in cage?! He would tear them to shreds!

Before the fury could transform him, Harry continued, "So I'm going to let you out. And...that's probably a very stupid thing for me to do. But I don't care, because it's right thing to do."

Draco jumped up as Harry's hand neared the latch that kept the cage shut.

"Please, don't do anything bad, okay? I'm really sorry for whatever we did."

Harry took a deep breath.

"Here goes nothing."

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As Harry flipped the latch, regret instantly filled him.

What was he thinking? Letting something loose that even Hagrid agreed should be destroyed! Was he mad?

But it was much too late for that.

The instant the latch unhinged, the pixie leaped for the opening. For a moment, the pixie was right in front of his nose, wings beating so fast that the boy hovered in mid air. From somewhere the pixie pulled out a tiny cooking pot sort of thing. Before he could twitch, the pixie removed the lid from the pot and heaved the contents into his face.

The red dust blinded him and filled his nose. He doubled over, coughing and rubbing at his eyes. He felt nauseous. He pulled out his wand and forced one eye to open halfway. The pixie was a blur of colors, but he seemed bigger for some reason. Harry raised his wand hand, but before he could point it, he collapsed.

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**AN: **Okay, so two months is a looong time. But I swear I tried. School and work decided they would both get really intense on the same day and not let up. And I've been sick for three weeks, which didn't help. I worked on this story from time to time, but real life crap just sucked the enthusiasm right out of me.

Thank you for reviewing and encouraging me. I know slow authors are a pain, but now that I'm healthy again I will fix that.

The time-line jumps quite a bit between Chapters 5 and 6. I just couldn't write anything all that interesting for Draco and Harry to do while Draco was trapped. And anyway, I'm glad this chapter is done because now the fun stuff starts!

Coming up next: Harry finds himself abducted by a blond lunatic who informs him that they are on their honeymoon.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 7**

**Did the pixie get taller or....?**

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Harry's head hurt.

Beyond the dull throb, he could not process much else. But he could comprehend that he was somewhere soft with Ginny holding him.

How long had he been asleep? Too long, he felt. His body was lethargic, resistant to him waking.

He stretched his legs and shifted his position.

"Good morning love."

The voice was not Ginny's, but it took him several seconds to realize that.

Harry opened his eyes and stared blankly at the person in his bed. He did not have his glasses, so his vision faded out into an indistinguishable smear of colors.

But glasses or no, he could see the bare male chest he rested his cheek on. An arm was snaked over him, and a hand rested on his shoulder. And two blurry blue-gray orbs looked down at him.

Despite all this, Harry's shock was buried far beneath a layer of drowsiness. He had been drugged. But this revelation could not bring him out of his stupor.

"Who are you?" he asked the man casually, as if he woke up like this every morning.

"I am Draco Lucius Malfoy."

The words were English words but not. Like Parseltongue. Harry could understand fine, but there was a slight background noise that did not fit. If he was not used to speaking Parseltongue, he might not have noticed.

"Hm. Where are we?"

Harry did not introduce himself. The people who abducted him usually knew who he was.

"You are home." A hand stroked his hair. "I prepared our old home for you, but it's unsafe. I will have to start over."

Like a haze lifting, Harry began to take in more and more details. This man's eyes were too big and too round. Two fuzzy shapes were actually long, thin pointed ears. The man's nose was a human nose, but it blended too well into the structure of his cheek bones. His hair stuck out in all directions and angles, making a spiky poof ball of sorts on the man's head.

The rest of him was too blurry, but he seemed to mostly resemble a human, though Harry's instinct insisted on the opposite.

And...why did this guy look familiar?

The full lips quirked. "Do I pass inspection?"

Harry was too out of it to be embarrassed. He continued to openly stare, unfazed by the man's question.

"What time is it?"

Somehow, he felt that he should be asking other things. Important things. Things that screamed to be heard, but they were locked too far in the back of his brain.

"Lunch time, my love. Are you hungry?"

The "my love" part jolted him. The words ran circles around his thoughts while he tried to figure them out.

The man started to rise, untangling himself from Harry.

Harry reached for the stranger. "My glasses."

"Ah. Here you are." The man slipped the frames onto his face, and the world snapped into focus. "I will bring you food. Wait here." The man kissed Harry's forehead.

He stared up at the ceiling. It was painted with swirls and lines of different shades of brown. It almost looked a normal wood ceiling, only magnified.

There was that jolt again, stronger this time. He was missing a piece of the puzzle. A critical piece.

Using all of his strength, he sat up. His bed was a plush mattress on the floor with plenty of large pillows and a thick blanket. The room was circular and the walls and floor were textured the same as the ceiling. There were large cushions strewn about and no other furnishings. Light came from a small floating star in the middle of the room.

Through the murkiness in his head, three coherent thoughts surfaced.

This was not his home. He did not know the strange man who had left. This situation was wrong.

That was all he needed. Using the wall for support, Harry struggled to his feet. He collapsed, but managed to remain standing on the second try. He was getting ready to try his first step when the man returned.

"Aye, love! What are you doing?"

The man rushed over and helped to hold him up, balancing a tray in the other hand.

"Who are you?"

The man laughed.

"I am Draco, dear."

The man's lips swooped in and touched Harry's in a kiss. The lips were warm and soft, and the tongue was not unwelcome either. But as Harry opened his mouth to receive it, a voice in his mind screamed at him to stop.

The man tasted like marshmallows. Sweet, warm and sticky marshmallows. Harry ignored the voice and greedily arched up into the yummy kiss.

Harry was gently pushed up against the wall, and the man's leg nestled firmly between his legs. Harry liked the nudge, so he nudged back with his hips.

The man moaned into his mouth. Harry breathed hard through his nose and pushed forward for more. Oh, yes. He wanted lots more.

And then the screaming part of Harry's brain finally pushed to the front, and he broke through the fog. He was making out with complete stranger! ….Who was _most definitely_ male.

He shoved the man off of him. Then his legs gave out from underneath him, and he fell to the floor in a heap. The mattress cushioned his landing, but Harry's head swam, the sudden movement making him dizzy.

"Harry?" The man helped him into a sitting position and leaned him against the wall. "Here, have some food. It will help."

He set something in Harry's hands.

"Don't touch me." Harry tried to sound threatening, but it came out as pained and weak. He closed his eyes, unable to take the disoriented swirl of colors.

The man adjusted the skewed glasses on his face.

"The sickness will wear off soon. It's a side effect of the change."

"Change?"

"Don't worry, I was careful. You are exactly the same as before."

Right, that made sense.

"Who are you?"

He chuckled.

"You're worse than I thought! I am Draco Malfoy." Another quick kiss on the forehead, and then the man pushed the thing in his hands up to his mouth. "Eat. It will help."

Harry opened one eye to peek at the supposed food. It was a large block of bread, but nothing like he had seen before. There were giant holes in it, and there was no crust. He would have refused it, but the pain in his head was getting worse. So he dubiously took a bite. It tasted normal.

"Good. Now then. I am Draco Malfoy, your life mate."

Harry choked. The maniac patted him on the back.

"Life mate?" He got out between coughs. Thankfully, the dizziness subsided, and he stared at the stranger with wide eyes.

Now that he could understand what he was seeing, Harry realized that this man was not a man at all.

And then it clicked.

"You're the pixie!"

"Yes." Draco grinned.

But the pixie was a cute little guy in a cage. Harry's eyes roved over the man. Well, he was not a little guy anymore. And though the fluffy hair was adorable, he could not apply "cute" to that hard muscled chest.

"How did you get bigger?"

Draco laughed roariously.

Right. Stupid question. One of these days, Harry would stop asking dumb questions that were answered with, "Duh, magic."

"Never mind. What do you mean by 'life mate'? And where's Ginny?"

Draco's face switched from amused to stern.

"You will not mention her name in our kingdom."

"Why? What have you done with her?"

"I have not done anything. _Yet._"

"So you're keeping me prisoner? As bait?" Well, at least the lack of furnishings made sense.

"No, love." Draco shook his head. "I'm keeping you safe. I had our other kingdom prepared for you, but we can't stay there. I will have to start over."

So much was wrong with that sentence that Harry did not know where to start. He decided with the beginning.

"I am not your love, so stop calling me that. I want out of this room."

The pixie flinched, as if hurt.

"There are other rooms. I can show you them, if you like, but you must live here for a couple days. The tunnels do not fit two, and you cannot fly."

Did he say days?

"How long do you plan on keeping me here?"

The pixie shrugged.

"A few weeks or so. I will take you to meet my parents after our honeymoon."

_...What?_

"Honeymoon? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Perhaps that's not the word. I meant the time after marriage that we try to conceive our first child. Not that we will, of course, but I expected us to still...try." The pixie smirked wickedly.

Harry stared. And breathed. And blinked. And stared some more.

Suddenly Harry was hyper-aware of the glint in the creature's eyes.

"You can't...you're not...."

He could not say the words. This was no ordinary hostage situation. Where the fuck was his wand when he needed it most?

"Take me home. Now."

"You are home."

He hid his slight fear under the famous Potter bravado. He had lived most of his life helpless. He hated the feeling, but at least he had experience dealing with it and negotiating his way out.

"Fine, I get it. I kept you locked up, so you're going to keep me locked up. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't even know you existed until Her—Ginny caught you. I'm very sorry. If there's anything in my power that I can give you, I will. I want to set this right."

The pixie made to take his hands, and Harry's reaction time was too slow to stop him.

"You think I'm mad at you about that? Harry, you aren't to blame for the harlot's actions. And I'm not keeping you 'locked up'. You'll be free to go where you want after I fix this place." The pixie leaned in. His sweetly scented breath made Harry flush. "And as for giving me things, you've already given me what I asked for."

Harry swallowed. He could almost taste that kiss. And those lips. And...

"You mean how I gave you your freedom back?" He did not sound so confident now.

"No. I mean how you accepted my offer."

Without warning, the pixie lunged forward and captured him. Harry struggled, but he stopped when the pixie bit down on his collarbone. The razor teeth pricked his skin, and survival instinct held him frozen.

He remembered those teeth. They had stuck out gruesomely while the pixie was in its 'evil' form. In his 'nice' form, they fit in his mouth the same as human teeth, but they still ended in needle sharp points.

The pixie was just gentle enough not to draw blood. He held his breath.

It got harder to hold still when a slick tongue flicked his skin.

He forced air through his lungs, slow and controlled.

"Please stop," he said in his calmest voice.

The hands that restrained him began to caress the bare skin of Harry's arms. He knew he should not like the touches so much.

Why hadn't he listened to Hermione?

_Pixies like to play games._

Every book said so. This must be a game, then. One so deranged that Harry had no chance of winning. He had to take control of this situation, to figure out the game somehow, but he did not dare shove the pixie away with those teeth so close to ripping through his flesh.

He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the pleasure that contradicted his mild panic.

"You sent me that note, didn't you? With the flowers and all that."

The pixie grazed his teeth up Harry's neck and to his ear.

"Yes. I told you. I am...Draco Malfoy."

Dear God, that was worse. He never should have opened his mouth. Those teeth might be sharp, but they were damn wonderful on the arch of his ear. And the hot breath sent tingles across his neck that zigzagged to the base of his spine. Then the tongue came back, and Harry was almost far enough gone to forget he was being held prisoner by a perverted whack-job.

But not quite. He pictured Ginny's face, and the guilt returned some of his sense.

He had to learn the rules of the game. He had to get out of there. Or else, hold out until help came.

"You said we were life mates. And we're on our honeymoon. But we haven't gotten married."

He prided himself on his cleverness, distracted as he was.

Relief flooded him as the blond backed off, and Harry shook off the pixie's hands. Without those touches and that tongue, some of his anger at being held captive returned. But stronger than that, he felt giddy at having escaped a pixie game so quickly.

"You didn't understand? I was as clear as I could be."

The giddy feeling fled.

"Understand what?"

"My gifts that you accepted? The flowers, the chocolate, and the berries?"

"Yes?"

And the note. He must have been playing this game long before trapping the pixie.

_Ginny was right._

"They were my offer for you. By accepting them, we were wed by sprite customs. You are my husband. We are life mates."

Harry examined the pixie. He seemed to be serious.

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**AN:** This is a monumental point in the story, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint anyone.

There's no description of wings in this chapter, but that comes next. Couldn't work it in here for some reason. I guess Harry's a bit overwhelmed. ;)

Coming up next: Draco decides to consummate the marriage, and Harry doesn't cooperate.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 8**

**Let's get to it.**

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"That's not right. We can't be married if I didn't know what was going on."

The pixie shook his head.

"I studied humans since I began courting you. It's legal in both our cultures to be married by arrangement and without the knowledge or consent of the intended."

Fuck.

"It isn't right. You tricked me."

"No, love. Pixies only trick their enemies, never their family. I did try to make you understand. I am sorry that you did not, but we are married regardless."

The pixie tried to close the space between them, but Harry scooted sideways. His eyes caught the movement of something behind Draco, and then he noticed the folded wings.

They draped down his back fluidly, like a translucent cape. The pixie saw his interest and stood. With a whooshing sound, he snapped his wings out to their full span, and obligingly turned his back to Harry so that the the wizard could see them fully.

As much as Harry worried about what Draco would do to him, he could not help staring.

The wings were beautiful. They were nearly clear with thin gold veins that glittered in the dim light. When the pixie was small, Harry saw that they sparkled, but he had not seen how the veins formed a precise pattern like the Celtic and tribal doodles Dean would make on the edges of his parchment.

Draco spun a slow circle.

"Do you like?"

"No." But the blush on his face gave him away. "I want to go home.".

"Wish granted," Draco said mockingly and plopped back onto the mattress with Harry.

"This isn't my home."

"Not your only home, anyway," he corrected. "If you don't like it here, you may like it at one of our other kingdoms. My family's territories are vast. You know, I don't see why you're being so stubborn. Most people would be happy to marry royalty."

"You're royalty?"

"Yes, but not in the sense you may think. Sprites do not have rulers. We don't like being told what to do."

Maybe that was a clue?

"May I please go home?"

The pixie did not look so amused anymore.

"I'm sick of this game. Would it matter if I said yes? This kingdom has far more luxuries than that old place. Once I've redesigned it, I will take you to one of the gardens that overlook the river. I will sing to the fish and make them perform for you." Draco shifted toward him. Harry held his ground. If he was going to negotiate, he had to establish himself as an equal with this arrogant being. "You like when I sing to the animals," Draco said.

Harry remembered the snake from Ginny's tub. And the squirrel. And all the bugs and rats and other things that attacked her. He winced, recalling how he had chided her for overreacting.

"You're the one that put things in her food."

"And the one who entertained you. You liked the deer I called out for you. And that family of squirrels. Not to mention the flowers I planted and the butterflies." Another subtle shift from the pixie made Harry nervous. He did not like the lunatic in arm's reach. "I will continue to do those things for you, pretty. My actions will not change just because our courtship is over."

"I love Ginny."

Of all the things he could have uttered, that was the absolute worst.

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A growl built in Draco's chest as he bared his teeth.

That _bitch._ Even out here, away from the wizarding world and hundreds of miles away from the harlot, she was destroying his relationship with his husband.

But she would not win. Harry was his mate now.

"So. You love her, do you? That's inconvenient."

He sprung. Harry dove to the left, but Draco twisted and captured him. Normally he and Harry would be matched in strength, but it would be at least two more days before Harry recovered from the transformation. Thus, he easily pinned his love on his back.

Harry struggled, but as soon as Draco settled his weight over him it was pointless. Well, not pointless. Draco _liked_ the squirming.

"Stop it!"

A low, sultry growl rumbled from Draco's throat as he gently pressed his lips to Harry's exposed neck. Harry's breath came fast and heavy as Draco dragged his upper teeth down to his collarbone and licked the small indent there.

His pretty spluttered a command to stop.

Draco almost laughed. As if he would listen to such a ridiculous request!

To prove it, he used his knees to spread Harry's legs, and let his lower half rest on him.

"Stop..."

Harry may have said it, but his breathless tone gave Draco other ideas. And Harry's wiggles were becoming rhythmic, which Draco encouraged with his hips. He kissed, nipped, and licked every bit of flesh he could find beneath him. His wings flexed at their full span, and they twitched whenever Harry rubbed him in the right places.

He let go of Harry's wrists and began unfastening Harry's robe.

Harry fended him off. Draco bared his teeth. He would pry that harlot's claws from his pretty, and afterward he would see her in pain.

Presently, he was too impatient for more foreplay and fed up with the damn robes. He swatted Harry's hands out of the way, bit down on the button and pulled on the fabric until the threads broke. He spat, and the button clattered on the floor as he moved on to the second one.

His method worked well until he came to the fifth button. It was too low for him to remove it without giving up his control of Harry's upper body. So he went back to Harry's neck, opened his jaws, and clamped on as tight as possible without breaking the skin. As he had hoped, Harry went still.

Harry did not know that he actually had the advantage. If he moved, Draco would have to release the bite before he accidentally hurt Harry. And then his husband would find out that there was nothing to fear, and he could be as annoying as he liked.

But Harry did not test his chances, so Draco's bluff held his husband compliant as he finished removing the buttons down to Harry's waist. He tugged Harry into a sitting position, using one arm to hold him close and support his back. He discovered that all of their movement had worked Harry's robe up above his knees.

After two seconds of thought, he decided Harry was good as undressed.

Sprites possessed a magic of empathy that was strongest in women and weak or absent in men. Draco's mother had a strong talent for empathy, but Draco could not pick up emotions unless they were vivid in a creature.

As he grasped the bottom hem of Harry's robe, he sensed fear. Because he sensed it, that meant Harry must be terrified out of his mind.

Immediately he stopped. Had Draco hurt him? He used both hands to tilt Harry's head to the side. There was no wound. He tilted Harry's head straight and looked into his eyes. What he saw shocked him.

His pretty was staring at him with unmasked horror.

Draco's lust vanished. He chittered a comforting croon and rocked Harry back and forth slightly.

"Love...my love..." he murmured between the sounds. He petted Harry's hair and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

He felt sickened with himself. It was their first time, and Draco had attempted to take his husband in anger. No matter how vile the harlot was, Harry's well-being ranked his highest priority.

After a few minutes, Draco could not feel fear anymore. He kissed Harry's lips, reigning in the hot desire to go further.

"Please stop." The words were mumbled, but Draco obeyed them instantly.

"My love, what is it?"

"I don't want to do this."

Draco brushed his thumb across Harry's cheek.

"Why?"

"I don't want to."

That made no sense.

"Pretty, we're married."

"I don't love you."

"You don't know me yet."

Draco kissed his nose.

"Please don't rape me."

He froze.

"_Rape_ you? Is that what you...?" Now Draco understood the ugly way that things had played out from Harry's perspective. "No, pretty. I wouldn't do that. I am sorry I didn't listen before. I thought you were being difficult. I didn't mean to make you afraid."

He continued crooning and petting to calm the upset wizard.

He pressed his lips to Harry's ear and whispered, "I will be gentle, love. And slow. Do not worry."

Draco let Harry shove him away.

"No. Don't come near me."

"You don't have reason to be afraid."

"I will not do this with you! You...you fag!"

Draco did not understand the word, but he could guess that it was a nasty insult.

"Pretty, it is our first bedding. Don't be like this. I'll make it up to you."

"Let me go. Please. I want to go home."

Draco sighed.

"Is it this place that bothers you? What if I made it more like the cabin? It would take a few hours, but I could carve you a human bed, if you like."

"No. I don't want to do this. Ever."

"That's unacceptable. You're my husband, and we're going to complete our bond." Harry started to protest. "BUT I will wait until you're ready. I didn't mean to scare you."

This was not the way he planned. He had thought that Harry would understand who he was, and he would be okay with it. But it seemed Harry would need some time to adjust. Perhaps he had not fulfilled a requirement of human courtship?

He should touch Harry and offer him assurance to soothe his terrible mistake.

"I'll be back soon," he said and left.

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**AN: ** Posting this chapter makes me nervous. Draco is a selfish and jealous character, but I still want him to be lovable. It's a tough balance to find.

Thanks for taking the time to review. I'm always eager to read what you guys say.

Coming up next: The boys get to know each other, and Harry disagrees with the sleeping arrangements.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 9**

**Never go to bed mad. Ha!**

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Draco entered the room and sat a short distance in front of Harry. He presented an oval plate with two large chunks of something Draco called 'food.'

"What is that?"

"Steak and potatoes."

The first chunk could be potatoes, but it was as large as a basketball. The second chunk was downright scary. It was a dark flesh-colored, wet, stringy thing. Oddly enough, it did smell delicious, but Harry was not fooled.

Draco scooted the plate towards him. Harry pushed it back with his foot.

"I'm not eating that."

"It took me a long time to find."

"Am I being rude? Sorry. Perhaps you should abduct someone else."

"Fine. Don't eat it."

"Fine."

Draco's shoulders slumped. "You always liked what I fed you before."

"I didn't know you were feeding me. And I never ate anything that looked like _that_."

"You are difficult. Why does it matter what the food looks like? It's the same thing. Shrinking spells are not easy, you know. They take days to prepare. If I were to shrink every meal for you, I would constantly be at work!"

Harry did not speak, as the words and their implied meaning sunk into his brain.

_He doesn't mean...he didn't..._

He looked at the offensive chunk of food again. And at the texture of the walls. And at Draco himself, who currently stood about three inches taller than him.

Draco had been so tiny yesterday...

"Draco..." Everything fit. He should have realized it when he first woke up. "You..._You_ _shrunk me?"_

If Harry had his wand, Draco be very, very sorry. But since he did not, all he could do was get in the pixie's face and yell, "PUT. ME. BACK."

Draco appeared alarmed by his fury, but irritatingly unafraid.

"You mean _un-_shrink you?" The pixie raised an eyebrow. "And if I did, how would we...eh...you know?"

Harry knashed his teeth. He channeled all his willpower on not punching the blond in the face.

Draco continued, "Besides that, I am your husband. When you accepted my offer, you agreed to align yourself with me and my people. This was explained in my proposal."

This would have been a good time for Harry's accidental magic to kick in and slam the little monster against the wall. Repeatedly. But accidental magic had the horrible attribute of being _accidental_ as well as unpredictable and useless. Harry understood this, but he still pictured violence in his head, hoping for results.

_It's a game. He's playing with me. If I want out of this, I have to play back._

When he bought the cabin, he should have been buying a quiet, uneventful life.

Well, he had been a prisoner before. One of the lessons he'd learned from Death Eaters was that a charming prisoner lead to a lenient guard which ultimately led to escape. As much as he wished severe harm on the pixie, Harry had to play along.

But before he played along, there was one thing that irked him even more than being shrunk down to insect size without his permission.

"You're my husband? What does that make me, your wife?"

"Our marriage is untraditional. We are mates, and that is all. But it is the same relationship as a husband would have with a wife." He sounded as if he were explaining that rain is wet to a simpleton.

Harry was too emotionally drained to keep up his temper, so he studied the plate of food and reconsidered. He _was_ hungry. He had gone hungry most days with the Dursleys. Now that they were out of his life, he hated missing a meal.

The steak, he could see now, was indeed steak, though large and ugly. Seeing as how he was unlikely to win this pixie game, he might as well get used to eating huge chunks of stuff. As far as prisons went, his life could be worse. Death Eaters would be worse. If Draco had not sexually assaulted him, his situation might be humorous.

He fiddled with the front of his robe, which hung loose since the Draco had destroyed the buttons. Draco's eyes caught the action, and Harry stopped.

Harry had previous experience with attempted prison rape as well. He wanted to maintain the "attempted" part of it on his record.

His stomach growled.

"I would like a fork."

"Hmm. I honestly did not think to bring any. Wait here." Draco disappeared into a knothole that was apparently one of three exits in this place. Since the other two did not work for him, he did not bother to try this one.

While the bug was gone, Harry picked up the plate. He scouted out a couple large-to-him pillows and made himself a comfortable place to eat. He avoided going near the plushy mattress as much as he could.

Draco came back carrying something that could have been a huge sword except the blade looked like a thick needle. Which might be exactly what it was. He handed it to Harry, who immediately thought up with a thousand ways he could kill Draco with it. But weapons were no good against magic unless he had surprise in his favor.

Harry speared the chunk of meat and the chunk of potatoes like a shish kebab and ate.

Draco sat too close for Harry's comfort, but he knew better than to show fear and vulnerability. Fortunately, the blond stared across the room, not looking at him.

"I will get you some new clothes tomorrow. Then we will find something to keep you busy." He paused to think. "Do you have hobbies? I know that you like to fly. Is there anything else?"

"No." Harry was never given the chance for anything else. Even Quidditch was taken away after a few short years.

"Well...perhaps you would enjoy gardening. You liked the berries I gave you for our wedding. They are very rare, only a few families grow them. There is small patch of them near the top level of the tree." Draco smiled at him. "If you promise not to fall out or to get eaten by centipede, I will take you there."

Harry nodded. Anything that involved leaving his prison was a good thing.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Draco said, "In your album, I saw many pictures of red haired wizards. Is Ginny related to them?"

He was not surprised that Draco went through his things. He ruefully remembered what a deal he had thought the cabin was.

"Yes," was all he responded with.

"You were arranged to marry her weren't you?" The pixie's voice was toneless.

"We may have married."

Draco nodded. Harry wondered if Ginny's safety had been decided.

"What of your family? I found an album of baby pictures, but none of you as a youth."

Was he serious?

"You do know that I'm Harry Potter, right?"

"You're my husband, I know your name. But I do not know your family. Will you wish to present our marriage to them?"

"Um, no. I'm the Boy Who Lived."

Draco's brow furrowed.

"What does that title mean?"

Harry gaped at him. Even the centaurs knew about the wonderous tale of baby Potter. If this was not part of the game, Draco was the first magical being Harry had ever met whom he had to explain this to.

"It means I am the Light Saviour. I defeated Voldemort." Seeing that Draco did not understand, Harry continued, "Voldemort was the Dark Wizard who tortured and murdered thousands. People are still afraid to say his name. And I defeated him. So they call me the Boy Who Lived." Shame several of his friends were too dead to congratulate him.

He mangled the fabled story, but he did not want Draco to know all of it. Heaven forbid what the pixie would think of once he knew that he possessed something valuable.

Draco mulled over his story for awhile, shifting to get more comfortable.

"I knew you were a good catch," he finally said. "I could tell by the way you carry yourself. Your back is straight and you look people in the eye, but you don't have an ounce of wizard arrogance. You are compassionate. A good leader."

"I'm just Harry."

"Just Harry? Well. If you are 'just Harry', as you say, then it must be another Harry Potter that the wizarding world is in a fuss about."

That caught Harry's attention.

The wizarding world knew he was missing? Then there was hope! Good ol' Hermione must have sounded the alarm already. He would give her a hug and a kiss when this was over.

"Don't look so worried, love. It's impossible for them to find us."

Any prison guard would say that. Impossible never held true for Harry.

"There are more pixies here? Are you their prince?" Harry remembered that Draco claimed to be royalty and he had mentioned a kingdom a few times.

"'Kingdom' refers to our home. You know how humans live in a house, but they also have claim to the land around the house?"

"Yeah. We call that a yard."

"Well, kingdoms are the same. This tree is our house of sorts. It and the land around it makes up our kingdom. And like 'yards,' we include the animals and plants as our possessions. We take care of them and guide them." And that was why wizards suffered terribly if they stumbled upon a 'pixie circle' as the books had described. Made sense. "So. Why does your title, Boy Who Lives, prevent you from presenting our marriage?"

"Voldemort killed my parents."

"Oh. I see." Draco's casual tone offended him. Harry seethed, but stayed silent. "I suspect that once my father gets used to our marriage, he will take you in as a son. He's not a warm man, but he is fiercely protective. My mother will coddle you worse than myself. Eventually."

The way that Draco said the last word distracted him from the implications of the rest.

"Eventually?"

Draco grinned. "You seduced me into marrying you. She will deem you a criminal."

If Harry responded to that he might choke on the sarcasm.

He put the steak and potatoes shish kebab back on the platter and yawned. The day had been long and his full stomach was putting him to sleep.

He eyed the bed and weighed the risks. It was the only bed in the room, so he decided that the stakes were too high. He moved off the pillow and fluffed it a bit. Then he laid down and closed his eyes. The covers were too far for him to hassle with.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm tired." Harry kept his eyes closed. Maybe the bug would lose interest and fly away.

"I see. And the bed offends you?"

"I'm fine right here."

Apparently Draco disagreed.

"Hey! Let go!"

He grabbed Harry's forearm and pulled him upwards. Harry stomped on his foot. Draco flinched in pain, but kept his hold.

"Ass!" Harry spat as Draco deposited him on the bed.

Draco gathered the pillows.

"Do you honestly think that _my _husband would be allowed to sleep on the floor? Wizards may not possess honor, but the Malfoy line is great and noble. You are Harry Malfoy now, and you will not behave like a vagabond."

Just for the sake of proving that he was a creature of free will, Harry scooted off the bed. Before he could stand, Draco had a hold of him again and pushed him back onto the cushions.

Draco bared his teeth. "I will not allow it."

Harry knew he should be following along, biding his time for an escape or a rescue. But being treated like a child pissed him off. Who the hell was this guy? Harry would not cower under a bully.

He glared up at the pixie who glared back and hovered over him without any indication of moving. He calculated his chances of beating this taller, more muscular, and more resilient opponent. The odds were against him. But he had faced Voldemort and survived.

He lunged, head butting the pixie in the stomach and knocking him over. He sprung for the shish kebab needle, but Draco caught his ankle and yanked, bringing him crashing to the floor. Harry clawed forward, but the pixie was already on top of him. Harry was pinned in moments.

Draco's heavy breath tickled. He used his body weight to pin Harry, and Harry was too aware of how the lower half of the pixie pressed on him. He tensed when Draco's lips ghosted his skin, making him shudder. He would struggle, but the wiggling might excite the malicious creature.

So he lay unmoving. Waiting.

The pixie chattered, deep and low. And though the pixie was not forming actual words, Harry imagined this was part of a kinky mating ritual.

"You know," Draco said, nuzzling his hair. "I may have underestimated the harlot. It takes much patience and strategy to court you."

Draco sighed, and the warm puff of air tickled the nerves on the back of Harry's neck.

"You have my word that I will not molest you in your sleep. So will you _please_ sleep on the bed?"

No matter what Harry answered, there would be the same outcome. Harry thought it over. He was still groggy and weak. The humiliation of being hauled and dumped into bed would be unbearable.

Draco released him when his muscles relaxed in submission.

"Thank you," Draco said as he released Harry. He sounded like he meant it.

His mouth set in a displeased frown, Harry laid down. He resolved to give the annoying bug the silent treatment until his rescue. But this plan died seconds later when Draco settled on the mattress beside him.

"What are you doing?"

Draco fluffed and positioned the pillows. "It's early, but you must be tired from the change."

"Get off the bed."

"Why?"

"I am not sleeping with you. Off." Harry pointed for emphasis.

His irritation flared when Draco rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, but you can't always get your way."

Draco must have predicted Harry's response. Before Harry could make a grab for the spiky blond hair, he was tightly vised against Draco's chest.

"Ow!" Draco cried when Harry pinched him. It was all he could with his elbows trapped at his sides. "OW! That's _it!"_

Draco released him and pushed him away. Harry thought he had won. Until Draco picked up the quilt and launched himself at Harry, throwing the quilt over Harry's head. Harry kicked and punched blindly, hoping to land a good blow.

When the scuffle ended, he found himself out of breath and wrapped so tightly in the quilt that he could not move anything but his toes.

Draco smirked and pecked him on the lips.

So Harry spit in his face. He chuckled darkly as pixie made a disgusted sound and wiped the saliva off his cheek.

His mirth cut off when Draco crawled over and lay beside him, spooning his body. Thankfully, the quilt kept the important parts of them from touching.

"There. Was that so hard?" Draco said.

"Shut up."

"Night, love."

"Fuck you."

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**AN**: So...yeah. I have no excuses for this chapter taking so long. Besides editing, this chapter was finished about six months ago. I'm a nice person. Please don't hate me.

Many of you took the time to reassure me that Draco is still lovable. THANKS SO MUCH. I did not realize so many people were following this story. 8D I don't respond to individual reviews because I think it boosts the word count unfairly. But I do appreciate each comment, and I listen to all constructive criticism. Hugs all around!

The sunshine is back, and I have hit the middle of the story, so writing is haaaard. I'm trying a new motivation tactic to keep me spewing up words. In case anyone is keeping track, I have finished Chapter 14 and will start 15 today.

Coming up next: Nothing dramatic. (gasp!) The boys fumble through their morning routine for the first time, and Harry learns about his new home.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 10**

**Prisoner? More like ruffled house guest.  
**

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The night was restless. Besides wrapping him in a constrictive cocoon, the pixie insisted on petting his hair. When Harry voiced his displeasure, the bug told him to stop being a cry baby. Long, uncomfortable hours passed before exhaustion finally put him to sleep.

When he awoke, he saw that the pixie must have unwrapped him, for the quilt lay over him loosely.

A night's rest had smoothed over Harry's anger and irritation from yesterday. Or perhaps he felt better because Draco had gone somewhere, so Harry was by himself. If he ignored the whole abduction and forced marriage thing, the bed was pretty fantastic. Better than his bunk at Hogwarts, and those were enhanced with comfort charms. Harry spent some time just enjoying the cushy mattress and the smooth quilt.

Draco was not the typical enemy he had experience with. He really did seem sorry for molesting Harry earlier. And even though he abducted and shrunk Harry, his intent seemed to be mostly playful rather than malicious. This game of prisoner and warden was different than what Harry was used to. Perhaps this situation called for a friendlier disposition.

Harry pushed the quilt off him when a round hole in the ceiling popped open, and Draco dropped into the room. He landed effortlessly on his feet.

"Morning, love," he said cheerily and went to help Harry up.

Mindful of his recent decision to befriend his lunatic captor, Harry accepted the offered hand, though it felt wrong.

Once he was standing, Draco immediately swooped in pecked him on the cheek. Harry's new outlook did not stop him from smacking the blond's forehead with his palm.

Draco pouted, but it turned into a grin.

"I've come back from the grocery store. We have cookies and cereal and bread and all kinds of food stuff. Do you want to see?"

"Actually...you got a bathroom in this place?"

"Finished carving it this morning," Draco said proudly and extended his hand.

Harry considered, but then said, "Point the way."

Draco pointed at a solid wall.

"Uh..."

"Oops. Wait a second." Draco went to the wall and ran his hands along the surface. Curious, Harry followed and looked over his shoulder.

Draco's lips moved as if he were speaking, and then the wood under his hand rippled like a liquid. Draco did not touch the wood at all, though the gooey liquid stuff reacted to his movements. He made a motion as though pulling an invisible ball. In sync, a round blob of wood-goo stretched forward. Draco then smoothed it into a near perfectly round shape, and Harry recognized that he was making a door knob. Lastly, Draco ran his hands over the entire outline of the door and pinched the wood-goo so that there was now a visible outline of the door's shape.

"There. Now you can open the door," Draco said, stepping back to admire his work.

"Wow."

Having lived in the wizarding world for the last ten years, it took a lot to impress Harry. This kind of stuff happened all the time, but usually by means of a flick and a spark. Harry had never actually seen magic used to sculpt before. And no wand!

"After you." Draco opened the door.

Harry peered into the hallway cautiously before stepping out. The hallway was round and bare. It was lit by series of small twinkle lights that hung like lanterns from the ceiling. The hallway extended straight for a short ways and a ladder stood at the end.

"I decided not to make stairs," Draco said. "I would have to redesign the whole place, and we will be making our own home soon enough."

"Goody. Where's this bathroom?"

Up the ladder was another hall that curved to the left twice before they came to the door that Draco claimed was the bathroom. It was quite a trek. Harry tried to draw a mental map in his head and it seemed as if they had just walked in a complete circle.

Which was probably true.

The bathroom was amusing, though Harry's mood held no tolerance for it. The layout matched the bathroom at his cabin. Except that everything, even the toilet and tub, was made out of wood. Also, there were no seams, so it appeared that the toilet and sink grew right out of the floor. And Harry discovered that the wooden hinges on the toilet seat were for show. The sink knobs were also decoration, but warm water came out of the facet when Harry put his hands underneath it, like a modern muggle bathroom.

The only thing missing was a mirror. Instead, a bowl of reflective water rested on the counter.

_What am I going to do?_

Ginny must be going out of her mind right now. And Molly too.

Hermione would find him though. The genius girl must have a grand rescue scheme in place by now. He did not know the time, but surely 24 hours had passed. The ministry would be buzzing, and the Order members would be alerted too.

All he needed was patience. And to avoid being molested again.

Draco's future was not as optimistic. After Harry's inevitable rescue, the pixie faced execution. Mercy laws did not protect magical creatures, so there would be no trial for Harry to defend him in.

The wizarding world had not been fixed with Voldemort's death. The ministry was a giant mess of purebloods, bribes, and power struggles. Voldemort had been a violent maniac. But tearing the ministry down and starting anew had been a good idea. Harry might have followed up on it if he were not so tired of duty and war.

With a heavy sigh, Harry opened the door. Draco waited patiently in the hall, sitting on the floor with a large shiny purple ball in his lap. He held the ball up.

"Hungry?"

Harry eyed the glistening bruise-colored thing.

"What is it?"

"A grape. I picked it for you."

Food became amazingly disgusting when it exceeded the size of his head.

"No thanks."

Draco's mouth tipped downward slightly.

"Well. Maybe you would like something from the garden."

The pixie hopped to his feet.

"This way!"

Harry trudged after him with far less excitement.

They followed the tunnel through two more left turns. Harry was fully disoriented. Each hall resembled the others. Without Draco leading the way, he imagined that he would be lost in this place for eternity. One turn to the right, and the tunnel came to an abrupt end.

Or so it seemed. Actually, the tunnel continued, but it went straight up.

The large dark hole in the ceiling gave Harry a bad feeling.

"I haven't fixed this part yet, but the tunnel is fairly wide, so I can carry you."

"Wait, what?"

At this point Harry realized that the pixie had purposely maneuvered to stand behind him and block Harry's escape.

"No. No way."

Draco's teeth glinted dimly in the light.

"Ah. But the garden is up there, and making ladders is such a chore. Besides, it's a long way up. What if you lost your grip and fell? You will be much safer in my arms."

Harry wished the creature was joking, but his gut warned him otherwise. He took on an authoritative stance.

"You will not touch me."

He had used that voice to intimidate countless Death Eaters. Draco only smiled with predatory amusement.

"If I honored that request, how would you get used to my hands?"

The blond inched forward. Harry held his ground. He would not go down without a fight.

"That will never happen. You and I are not lovers."

"Why must you be so prickly?"

"Back off."

Harry did not have time to react. One moment he was staring Draco down and the next he was staring down Draco's backside as the pixie picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder.

"Damn it, let me go! You—"

His string of curses and threats were cut off when the bug's wings snapped open. Harry's body draped awkwardly beneath them. At first, Harry thought he had won simply because his body blocked the movement of the wings.

He found out soon enough that Draco did not need his full wingspan to fly.

He could not see much besides Draco's butt and the floor, but he heard the vibrating of the wings as they lifted. The floor got smaller and smaller as they rose. The walls of the tunnels loomed dangerously close to his head. Harry grabbed what he could hang on to and tucked his nose into Draco's back. Otherwise, the slightest waver in Draco's flight would bash his skull against the wall.

As it turned out, flying straight up was the easy part. The hard part came when the tunnel twisted and curved. It spiraled up and shot down, and turned right and veered left. Draco flew at a pace that twisted his stomach. He half hoped he would vomit simply because Draco deserved it. But they were a long, long way from where they started, and Harry did not wish to be dropped.

So Harry shut his eyes tight and tried to forget that he was trapped in a gravity-reversed water slide. He focused on sounds and feel. Draco's wings beat at an irregular tempo, labored with the awkward position. The pixie wore a soft, silky shirt. But honestly, his face was too close to Draco's butt for him to appreciate any positive aspects.

He focused so hard on distracting himself that he did not notice when they landed. Partly because Draco landed so smoothly that there was no distinguishable jolt between flying and standing.

"Here we are."

To his credit, Draco did not grope him as he set Harry down. But then, Harry got off of him so fast that he did not allow the chance.

Dizzy, Harry would have hit the ground if Draco had not caught him and held him against his chest.

Harry should have pushed him away and allowed himself to collapse onto the floor. But he was thankful to be still. As a death-defying Quidditch player, Harry liked aerial stunts. However, he did not like to do them suspended upside down while trusting his life to stranger.

Draco smelled faintly of marshmallows, and Harry remembered the wonderful, drugged kiss from yesterday. A secret part of him wanted another.

_The drugs must still be in my system._

His head cleared some, and he pushed the blond away. Draco tried to hold him, but he let Harry have his way when Harry used more strength.

"You will get used to my touch someday, love. Then I can carry you properly."

Harry declined to respond. He was learning that Draco could not be argued with.

Then he turned his head and gaped openly at the room they had arrived in.

It was a scene right out of a fairy tale.

First he noticed the spongy moss under his feet and the scattered white blossoms that sprouted from it. Then he noticed the plants sprawled around him, crawling up the walls and covering the ceiling. Fiery blossoms and tiny clusters of red berries hung from above, swaying slightly with the wind.

But even more distracting and wonderful was what he noticed last.

The outside world.

This room had no fourth wall. A huge round hole across the room was the first window Harry had come across. He set out for it, taking care not to squish the blossoms on the ground. The view from the opening confirmed what he had suspected.

Draco's home was a hollowed tree. And he currently looked out of a knothole.

He did not step up to the edge. Even standing a ways back, he could see phenomenal drop.

And, oh, how different and fascinating the world looked now!

Everything was HUGE. Harry marveled at a leaf that bigger than his living room. Each vein was nearly as thick as his arms, and he could see the membranes clearly. They made up a beautiful pattern that glowed in the sunlight.

And beyond the leaf was more to gawk at. The trees were awesome. Larger than skyscrapers. Larger than anything he could compare them to.

The strangest thing was that Harry did not feel small. Instead, it seemed to him that he stayed the same and the world had grown bigger overnight.

He leaned forward to carefully peer down without approaching the edge. Branches and leaves obscured his view of the ground. The tree traveled downwards to infinity, as though he were on a planet not connected to the earth at all. The illusion captivated him.

Draco touched his arm.

The bug wore a delighted grin.

"I take it you like the garden?"

He could not lie. The view was almost worth the trouble of admission.

"Yes. It's incredible."

Draco swooped in on him for a quick kiss. Harry, still in shock, allowed it.

"I'm glad."

Harry let himself be led to the center of the garden. Draco left him there and flew to the ceiling.

"Do you remember these?" Draco broke off a clump of the red berries. If they were small to him now, Harry figured they must be nearly invisible to humans. "I enlarged them for my offer. Would you like one?"

He dropped the clump into Harry's hands. Harry recognized the sweet scent from his gift basket. He stomach approved. But his thoughts were a mess.

"Try them. Then you will remember." Draco landed next to him, his own bounty in hand.

"No thanks."

Draco frowned. Harry expected him to argue. Instead he sat cross legged on the soft green floor and patted the spot next to him. Harry complied, but sat farther away than Draco had indicated.

"Are you unhappy?"

"What do you think?"

Draco did not have his mischievous grin anymore.

"Do you not like our home?" He gestured toward the exotic plants.

"This is a prison. Homes I can leave when I please."

Draco looked down at his lap, and Harry strangely felt guilty. He tried to reason the feeling away.

"You liked the home I provided before. How is this any different?"

"I was not being held against my will."

"But you were being held. I made you happy so that you would want to stay. If you would let me do the same here, you would like this home too."

"How about a trade, then?"

Draco perked up, interested.

"I stay here for two weeks and let you babysit me. Then you will let me live where I choose."

Harry was not as clever as Hermione, so he hoped his words were stealthy enough. Magical creatures tended to take verbal agreements very seriously. His obsessed captor might not agree to let him go, but maybe Harry could trick him into it.

"Sprites do not make deals with family. It's too close to trickery and games. But I suppose I could give you my promise that in _one month_ I will let you choose our home."

Harry was not stupid. Draco could twist that to his favor in plenty of ways.

But he shook his head no for another reason.

"Two weeks. If I don't show up soon, the ministry will find me. And if I'm still here, then you will be executed. Or worse."

"Pfff. Let them try."

Well, he could tell there was no breaking through that arrogance. Harry would be free either way. His offer was for Draco's benefit, not his. At least this way, if the worst happened, Draco had acknowledged and accepted the risk. Harry could do no more for him than that.

"Alright. One month then. And I get to choose our home afterward."

Maybe Draco would get lucky. It could happen. If Hermione was not quite as clever as Harry knew her to be.

Harry did not like the bug. But Harry knew evil, and Draco did not deserve the ministry's wrath, should they rescue him. But perhaps there would be a happy ending. If he was rude enough, Draco might set him free early and Harry could move on to the next nosebleed fate bestowed upon him.

"That sounds better. But in order for our deal to be fair, you have to let me court you. And that means accepting my gifts."

"Fine. But you're not touching me."

"Not yet anyway."

"Not ever."

"Maybe."

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**AN** Coming up next: Harry asks to take a bath. Draco kindly supplies one, and can't understand why Harry complains so much.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 11**

**Draco behaves.**

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Despite being sexy and endearing, at the end of the day Draco's pretty was a stubborn creature. Not that he regretted his marriage. Certainly not. But he never expected Harry to resent him on their honeymoon.

Harry did not accept Draco as his husband. Draco must not have satisfied some secret custom of human mating. Twice yesterday he had asked Harry what to do, but his mate snubbed him. The man acted as though Draco had purposely overlooked the missing element to insult him.

He tried to explain his side. But his new husband delighted in being difficult. And he had no time for research between courting Harry and making the kingdom livable for Harry.

Frankly put, Harry would have to get over it.

Draco would love to have a full, drawn out, traditional marriage. He would like to court Harry for a year, present him with seasonal offerings, introduce him to his parents, have a party, and all of that. Plus the human stuff too, with white and flowers. But the harlot had rushed him.

Ultimately, conventional marriage or not, they were wed. Harry would acknowledge that in time. Draco would make it happen. And if he had to wrestle Harry into bed each night, so be it.

"Let me out, already." Harry glared at him from his tight quilt-cocoon. He had very nearly escaped last night, but Draco came out of the scuffle victorious.

"Five more minutes," Draco said. Draco loved lying beside his new husband. Harry would get used it in a couple weeks, he hoped.

"I want out NOW. And I want a shower. I'm going to spit on you if you don't get your hands off me."

Harry rarely bluffed. So Draco petted his hair one last time before getting up. He let Harry wiggle out of the quilt by himself.

"A shower, eh? We can do that." Draco had been looking forward to a bath.

Harry yawned and stretched. He wore one of Draco's tunics. Initially, Draco planned to locate and shrink some human clothes so Harry would be comfortable. But Harry looked downright edible wearing his tunic. Plans change.

"What are you doing? Are you sniffing me?"

Draco tried to kiss him. His lips met Harry's palm when Harry shoved his face away. "Cut that shit out," he said and walked past him.

"Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom."

Draco was not too disappointed. Harry's guard would come down at some point. Draco would get his kiss today. Maybe he could…No. Draco would not use his teeth to intimidate Harry anymore. Just thinking about Harry's fear that day made him ashamed. He would never threaten to bite Harry again.

Draco finished straightening the covers and pillows when Harry returned.

"There's no towels. And, oh yeah, the bath tub doesn't work."

Draco had forgotten that humans bathed next to their toilet. A filthy behavior. Harry was lucky Draco found him and rescued him from such a bestial species.

"The tub is decoration. The real bathing pool is at the top of the tree, near the gardens. I think it's the only place I didn't show you yesterday."

"Bathing pool. Please tell me it's heated."

"Yes, it's warm. And there's a 'shower' feature too." Draco changed his pants and put on a new shirt. "You will like it, I think. It's the only garden with a view of the valley."

"Are we still in Britain?"

"No. This isn't human territory. This is the Malfoy Kingdom. One of the larger ones. We used to claim the land all the way down to the valley. But human settlers began to cluster there, and we conceded." He opened the door for Harry and they started their walk to the bathing pool. "A few humans wouldn't notice our spells. But many would wonder why they kept turning around when they meant to go forward. So we gave them our territory and, naturally, they destroyed it. But the kingdom was too large anyway. Lots of trees and animals means lots of work."

"Oh no," Harry moaned behind him, seeing that the current tunnel curved straight up.

Redesigning his home for his flightless mate was challenging. The tunnels intertwined and spiraled in confusing ways because sprites loved puzzles and exploration. Harry would enjoy exploring too if the kingdom were suited for walking. Ladders were the best he could do, and in many cases they simply did not work. Draco had to carry Harry a lot.

But he did not mind carrying Harry. Harry was the one that complained.

"You mean we have to do this again?"

Draco shrugged. "The bathing pools are all the way at the top." He masked his pleased tone.

"All I want is to get clean. I don't need fancy views. Why can't I use the bath tub?"

Draco could hear the petulance in Harry's voice. The difficult brat complained for the sake of complaining. If not for their strained marriage, Draco would happily correct his attitude with some exercise.

But for now, he had to banish such thoughts.

"I only made the tub so you would feel at home. Human methods of washing are unsanitary."

"At least our houses don't require a hike to the facilities."

_Not your houses. Theirs._

But Draco held his silence.

Harry was a sprite, separate from humans. Draco never would have married him otherwise. But Draco would not correct his mate's thinking yet.

Harry cringed when Draco put his arms around his waist.

More than anything, he wanted Harry to get used to him. The other stuff could wait on the to-do list.

Harry hated being carried in his arms. But piggy back style did not allow flying and the boy-over-shoulder method made his husband nauseous. So Harry had no choice but climb into Draco's arms.

Thusly, any tunnel that could fit two would never be outfitted with ladders.

He buried his nose in Harry's hair and sniffed.

"Would you cut that out? My hair isn't even clean. Just get going already."

"Yes, pretty."

Draco took off. To fly slower would be nice so he could hold Harry longer. But then Harry would start to fidget. A drop at this height would kill his wingless mate, and Harry's recklessness made it a possibility. Draco would not put it past Harry to jump right out of his arms. The concept of self-preservation escaped an agitated Harry. When Draco flew quickly, Harry had no choice but to put his arms around Draco's neck and hold tight.

Draco cherished the contact. Harry's soft hair on his cheek and the puff of breath on his neck made him giddy with love. The warmth from his husband quickened his blood while putting him at ease at the same time. He anxiously awaited the day he could hold Harry whenever he wanted.

Up they went, through a few twisting passages and up some more. The tunnel ended, and they popped outside. Draco flitted amongst the canopy, spiraling upwards still around the trunk until he came to the secret entrance. Thanks to sprite care, the foliage of this tree was thick all year long. The bathing pool entrance was a tunnel of sorts, but through the leaves rather than wood. Magic and tending kept the path hidden from anyone who did not know where to look. Draco angled his wings and glided straight down.

Harry shoved out of his arms as soon as they landed.

The bathing pool differed from the other gardens in that the entire thing sat outdoors. A thick web of thin branches and broad leaves grew in a weave to form a half-bowl shape against the trunk of the tree. Soil had been carried there and the bathing pool structure built from white stone. Thick chest-high grass grew along the edge, protecting bathers from chilly winds. In the distance far, far below, small colored rectangles represented the roofs of human dwellings in the valley.

A resized apple tree grew beside the bathing pool. It was more like a shrub, actually. Whoever had planted it centuries ago shrunk it so that the tallest leaf could be touched on tip toe, making its fruit and spring flowers convenient to reach.

The dainty apple tree was outdone by the bathing pool, the beauty of the garden. Smooth rocks were stacked high against the tree truck and water rippled down over them. One slanted flat rock jutted out from this formation, creating Harry's shower. Through the passage they had used, the sun shone down on the water. This summer morning was too warm for a hovering mist, so Draco trilled a few notes to create one.

After a period of impressed silence, Harry said, "I take it this is a public pool."

"No, it's very private. Intended for one person and their mate. The public pools are below, on the ground." Draco wondered if he would have to explain how the bath would be better than a human cleaning stall in every single way.

Harry straightened his posture.

"I'm taking this bath alone."

"No one will be joining us."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes."

"I am going to bathe alone. You are going to leave."

"Yeah."

Harry waited.

"Leave. Now."

"What's the matter? I promised not to bed you until you asked for it."

He should have stepped out of Harry's reach before uttering such a thing. Harry grabbed some flesh at his waist and twisted.

"Aaah!" Draco snatched up Harry's wrist. He bared his teeth and pushed his face into Harry's, their noses touching. "Don't. Do that."

"Let's leave. I've changed my mind."

Draco let go of Harry. He scruffed a hand through his hair and let the tension in his shoulders dissipate. He did not want to scuffle with Harry anymore unless they were playing. He lightened his voice.

"I don't see what the big deal is. I'm not going to touch you. I won't even get look at you all that much. See that mist forming over the water? I called it out for you." The mist still gathered, but it would be opaque in a few minutes. Harry still scowled. "Look, no man in his right mind would miss the opportunity to bathe with his new mate."

"Still not getting in there."

Harry needed motivation. Draco bit his lip, already disgusted with himself for what he would say next.

"Perhaps you would be open to trade? I don't kiss you again, or even touch you without explicit consent for the rest of the day, if you bathe with me." Deals and manipulation were not for family. Draco knew this, had been taught this his whole life. But what else could he do?

If his father ever found out, he would pay.

As Harry thought it over, Draco said, "Or, if it is your wish, we can wrestle. And I will, eventually, win. And you will be tossed into the water. I promise not to bite." He forced a wide grin so that the pretty idiot would disbelieve him.

His earlier vow to never threaten with his teeth niggled at him. He amended it to specifically apply only to actions and not words. And smiling did not _really_ qualify as a threatening action.

After some serious thought, Harry said, "I don't want you touching me. Not once. Got it?"

"No problem."

But Draco would have liked to wash Harry's back. He could picture them in the pool, him standing behind Harry with a soapy cloth. The soap would smell of raspberries. Suds would slowly slip down Harry's slick thigh while Draco gently rubbed circles on Harry's lower back with the cloth. His other arm would be wrapped around his husband's stomach. And Draco would mouth love murmurs against his skin as he dropped the wash cloth, and—

Oh boy. If he got into that mood, Harry would never agree to bathe with him.

"I'll get in first then."

He stripped and practically leapt into the water. The last thing he wanted Harry to see was his arousal. The difficult man would refuse to be in the same room with him. Ever.

_Damn me and my stupid impatience._

If he hadn't rushed into consummating the marriage, he might not have to be so careful now.

Harry pulled his shirt off without any hesitation. His pretty was not modest. The drama over bathing resulted because of Draco, not shared nudity. Draco got to appreciate the lean body in the morning and evening when Harry dressed. Now though, Draco did not want to look. The pool had a ledge underwater, and Draco sat with his back to Harry. Partly to make Harry comfortable. Mostly because he did not enjoy torture.

He got enough of it already, his treacherous mind feeding him all sorts of tempting fantasies.

He should have known that taking Harry would never be as simple as he planned. Harry had an energy that made people line up to follow his lead. Such a spirit could not be held by a less willful mate. Draco would have to persevere before he got to pet and tease the dark haired beauty.

That harlot did not appreciate how Harry had _let _her have him. Lucky bitch. Someday Draco would see to it that her luck changed.

A splash told Draco that Harry had joined him. Harry moved to sit at the opposite side of the pool, but Draco did not mind.

Ah, distance issues. Yet another obstacle on the to-do list.

The pool soothed his troubled thoughts. They rested in silence, both gazing at nothing. Draco meditated on the peace of the moment. Turmoil lay behind and in front of his marriage, but for now there was calm.

If only his imagination would leave him be.

Strong as Draco was, he could not help peeking at Harry.

The lavender magically laced into the warm waters did its trick. Harry began to relax, his elbows resting up on the pool's edge and his fingers dangling into the water. Draco felt lazy too, which meant he could stare and appreciate without getting uncomfortable.

His Harry was quite lovely. Unruly black hair, bright green eyes, and full lips...

Not so long ago, he had anticipated the new humans coming to live with him. But then Harry stepped out of the shiny rolling cage. Draco had stared in shock at first. He did not know that anything of value existed among humans. Then, as Harry's foot touched the porch steps, he had scrambled about to disable the traps and curses he had set all around the house. Harry narrowly avoided an epic army of spiders descending on his head, and that was one of his nicer pranks.

In between running about and clearing out the rooms, Draco fought against his attraction. After all, Harry was a human! It took him several days to work out that Harry was actually a sprite among humans.

Draco would never fall in love with a human.

When he came out of his thoughts, his eyes caught Harry's. As he had daydreamed, Harry had been eyeing him shyly. Happiness swelled in Draco. Any interest Harry expressed in him at all was cause for a song. His husband was so damnably indifferent all the time.

Draco ought to encourage his interest.

Draco waded through the waist high water over to the miniature waterfall. He pulled a bowl of soap a little nook in the rocks and lathered it in his hair, enjoying the scent of berries. He made sure to stand tall and tighten his stomach so that his abs displayed nicely. He lifted his arms and tilted his head back, his eyes shut in supposed innocent relaxation. And after a bit, he shifted so that Harry could appreciate his backside as well. Stealthily, he checked over his shoulder to make sure he still had Harry's attention.

He did. But did Harry feel anything?

Perhaps.

_I'll tease him. Just a little._

He stepped partially into the falling water, letting the trickles run down his back. He kept his arms raised, his fingers in his hair and his muscles flexed. He opened his wings and let the spray of the water bring out their colors. He took his slow, sweet time in rinsing.

The hardest part was to not peek over his shoulder again. If Harry suspected the show was for him, his obtuse husband would stare at the rocks for the rest of the morning.

When the soap was fully rinsed out of his hair, Draco had to stop eventually. He dragged his play out as long as he could. When he finally turned around, he saw that Harry was definitely watching him and definitely interested. His half-lidded eyes were lit with intent.

His desire flared anew, overcoming his common sense.

He should _not_.

He promised.

How stupid of him. Promising to not touch his husband, to not love him. How could Harry expect him to keep to a promise like that?

He waded towards Harry, one step at a time. The boy was like a caged lion sometimes. As he neared, he prepared for the lion to snarl and claw the air.

Harry visibly bristled when he came within reach. But no protest came when Draco touched his face. His index and middle finger ran lightly down the side of Harry's cheek. He lingered near Harry's lips and then his hand dropped.

He stepped closer. The boundaries were down, but he was aware of how they could fire up and make everything ugly. He reached out a second time and petted Harry's hair. He did not push his fingers through it, as he would when they lay together one day. He only caressed the ends of a few locks. This was safer than touching skin and better than nothing.

But he soon grew dissatisfied and bold.

Ever so gently, he slid his fingers into the tresses. With his other hand he cupped Harry's faced. He leaned in, his lips parted.

"Stop."

A simple word spoken without inflection. No force and no anger. Not a quite a plea, but almost.

Draco paused and considered.

Harry was his husband. Draco had put forth his offer, and Harry had accepted. A done deal. Why should it matter if Harry submitted now or tomorrow? In the end they were mated, and Harry would know Draco's body as well as he did his own.

He stopped. He did not know why. And he wanted to break something. But he stopped.

Harry was his, but not his at the same time. It was his own fault, rushing things in the beginning and frightening his overwhelmed mate. Now he had to take his punishment and fix his error.

He put some space between them. A single step backwards, but it was something at least. He was in control.

"Yes, love."

Harry let out a breath. "Thank you."

His pretty's eyes were clouded with lust. Draco could have his way. And Harry would be willing. His body would, anyway.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, using the pain to keep him focused.

"Would you let me wash your hair?"

Harry frowned.

"Never mind," he interrupted before Harry could deny him.

Dammit. He did not want this moment ruined. But how could he stand here and be happy with scraps of intimacy while Harry sat hot and _naked_ a pace away?

He had no choice.

"I'm done. You may wash if you wish."

He forced himself to turn away and take his seat on the other side.

He did not look at Harry in case he changed his mind.

Did Harry feel regret? Frustration? Was the brunette beginning to fall for him? He wanted to know. Desperately. But if Harry's expression gave him the slightest encouragement, and Draco would likely misinterpret, he might do unforgivable things that would drive him to self-loathing and ruin.

He sat with his eyes closed and his body tense. The lavender could not slow his blood or soothe his temper. The sound of rippling, splashing water alerted him to the movements of Harry's body as he went to wash. He tried to endure it, at first. This was his first bath with his newly mated. A pleasure-filled memory for any other young couple.

Then Harry hummed to himself, a low and short satisfied sound. Draco's mind warped it into a dangerous fantasy, and he promptly got out of the pool. He paused only to tie his trousers in place before he sprang and flew up into the thankfully-cool morning air.

Harry would be alright by himself for awhile. There were apples and he might find the basket of food Draco had stashed there yesterday.

Draco should be joyous. He had, for the very first time, achieved some level of closeness with Harry. Though he felt deprived, he had made progress.

After some time alone to relieve his fantasies, he might be even be proud of himself.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I have to ask you to leave the room. We'll be done soon."

Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand and gave her a tiny reassuring smile before she left the kitchen.

"I've already told you everything. The last time I saw him was the day we captured the pixie. Hermione checked on him a couple times, but I haven't seen or spoken to him since. He just disappeared."

"Were the fights pretty bad that week?"

"Yeah." Ginny yanked another tissue out of the box on the table. "I regret it now. I should have been more patient. Harry's always been too stubborn. I've known that forever. But I was so stressed out because of that pixie."

"Yes. The pixie. Did anyone else go into Harry's home and see the pixie besides you two?"

"No. Ron went to visit Fred and George for a couple days. I don't think Harry had any other visitors."

The scratch of quill and parchment came from the corner behind her where a younger wizard took notes.

"I told you everything."

The Auror nodded. "One more question. Did you resent Harry?"

"What?" Ginny dropped the tissue.

The Auror waved dismissively. "I need all the facts, that's all. Details before the disappearance will help us determine if Harry simply ran away."

"He didn't run away! It's the pixie! That goddamned pixie has destroyed my life!"

"Okay, okay. And exactly when did your life take a turn for the worse?"

"From the first day we moved in!"

"Don't worry, ma'am. The Ministry is sparing no expense on this investigation." The Auror scooted his chair back and stood. On his way out, he stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll sort this out. For now, stay close to your friend Hermione. We will send you any information we find."

"Thank you."

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

That night, Harry snapped awake as Draco shifted in his sleep. The pixie snuffled his hair and muttered something as the arm slung across his waist pulled him closer. Harry patiently waited for the blond to settle down. Once Draco stilled and his muttering ceased, Harry inched away from him. The trouble was that Draco always put him near the wall, so he had precious little space to maneuver.

He fell asleep.

And woke up sometime later when, yet again, Draco pulled him flush against his chest. Draco nuzzled the back of his neck this time, sending tickles through his nerves that he refused to admit felt nice. He waited. Soon the blond went quiet and still.

But when he tried to scoot away, the arm across his waist tightened and teeth nipped the back of his neck. To his horror, Draco squirmed and closed any space between them. Harry's night clothes did not hide the poke from _down there,_ and the leg tossed over his made Draco's message clear.

He wanted to cuddle.

Harry kept still. Resistance would only end up in a wrestling match that would get the blond to second base.

So Harry waited. For hours, it felt like. He wondered if the blond was awake or dreaming.

Awake would be better. That meant the pixie tortured him for fun. Being a play thing would make his predicament a lot less confusing. But dreaming meant that the pixie honestly wanted him that way. That this game meant more than curing boredom and watching the human go crazy.

Harry wanted him to be dreaming.

Why? Was he having fun? Did he _like_ Draco?

Yeah. But he was not a primate. His hormones were normal for a guy his age, and they did not mean a thing. He was stronger than that.

Draco muttered something and pressed a small kiss on his neck.

Harry counted backwards from a thousand.

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**Coming Up Next:** Harry tries to escape. Draco is displeased.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Mischief**_

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**Chapter 12**

**Harry likes kissing.**

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**AN: **I forgot I rated this thing T until I started to upload this chapter. So the rating has changed to M. If you want it changed back to T, let me know.

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Harry sat alone in the garden, holding a half-eaten chicken and dumplings shish kabob. Draco had run off to retrieve a surprise for him. He had announced his task with such excitement that Harry dreaded what the bug might be bringing back. He had been gone for over an hour, leaving Harry to think and stress out. First he had paced, but now he sat cross-legged by the edge of the garden.

He hated to admit it, but...

He liked Draco.

His heart belonged to Ginny, always and forever. But he often caught himself day dreaming of Draco's kisses and secretly hoping the bug would be more persistent in stealing them. Sometimes he even _flirted. _Not openly. But when Draco got all touchy and playful, Harry would smile and laugh. And talking with the bug got less like arguing and more like bantering with every passing day.

Just this morning he caught himself acting like a teenage girl playing hard to get. He was a prisoner! He should not enjoy it here. He must have Stockholm Syndrome or something.

With all this in mind, Harry concluded that he had to escape before Draco's charming tricks turned him into a love-besotted puppy. But how would he escape? The exits were high up. Only an idiot would attempt to climb down.

But he had to do something_. _No one controlled him. The Ministry had turned him into a puppet, and Harry would never let that happen again. And if he had to kill himself to prove it, then so be it.

The distance from the garden to the ground looked be five, maybe six or seven Mt. Everests. He had to estimate since he could not actually see the ground from the garden edge. It would likely take months to get down, and he did not have any provisions.

Yep. A stupid idea.

As Harry rooted up a vine-flower, Snape's voice rebuked him. In his school days, Harry would get angry and blurt a defense. Now he imagined himself nodding in agreement as he tied several vines together and secured his rope around a rock. Then he used his shish kabob and his teeth to tear his tunic into strips that he wrapped around his hands. He added unused strips of cloth to the length of his plant rope.

Several hours later, Harry finally made it to the first branch down and collapsed onto his hands and knees, mentally cursing his god-damned Gryffindor stupidity with a tongue Snape could never match.

His short rope had quickly left him stranded. Climbing down the side of the tree compared to crawling on his belly through gravel and glass. On some ledges, Harry had to cling to edges as jagged as a serrated knife. Cuts and scrapes marred his entire torso. The frayed cloth on his hands protected his palms but not his fingers, which appeared as though he had taken a cheese grater to them. At one point, he nearly slipped and his leg caught on a splinter the size of nail. He would pull it out, but he had nothing to press against the wound.

On the up side, the bark had plenty of footholds. A couple times he had to navigate upwards or sideways or both, but for the most part he could travel straight down.

The bad news was that he had no chance of surviving the trip. He counted himself lucky to make it to the first branch. And he would have perform that feat fifty times over in order to reach the bottom.

_And then what will stupid, tiny Harry do? Maybe I can tame an ant and ride it Hogwarts._

He seemed to remember a movie like that.

If he wanted to live, he had to give up and wait.

Harry passed the time by wallowing in self pity.

When he heard the hum of wings he did not bother to look up.

"Pretty! What are you doing out here?"

Of all Draco's pet names, he hated "Pretty" the most.

Draco did a roll landing and ran up to inspect him. He was everywhere, poking and kissing and talking. He tilted Harry's head to both sides, lifted his arms and touched his cuts. Harry obeyed with the docile manner of a tame cow. Humiliation tinged his depression and irritation.

"You worried me sick! I thought you were lost! And when I couldn't find you, I thought you had fallen! I've been screaming your name for hours! Didn't you hear me? Why didn't you answer?"

_He's mad. Good._

Draco grabbed his shoulders.

"What are you doing out here?"

Draco was sexy as hell, glaring at him like that. Harry hated him for it. And Draco's breath made Harry crave marsh mellows.

Fucker.

Thanks to the poor condition of his hands, punching that face probably injured himself more than Draco. But the satisfaction of the blow outweighed the sharp jab of agony, and Harry launched a second punch with the other arm.

In that second, Harry understood Dudley. Punching someone made him feel powerful. He had his control back, and he could make Draco suffer.

But unlike Dudley's conquests, Harry's victim had the body of a Greek statue and reflexes to match. Draco caught his second blow and twisted his arm. Harry's kick did not land, and before he knew it, he lay face down with Draco's weight holding him immobile. His glasses fell off and lay out of reach.

At least, he hoped that black blotch was them. If not, then Harry was blind as well as doomed.

His rage melted quickly as Draco held him helpless. He still wanted to scream and kick and basically throw a fit over the injustice of him enjoying his imprisonment, but that fantasy passed. He had spent too much energy to stay angry.

Draco did not feel the same way.

"I've. Had. _Enough_."

A chill shivered down Harry's spine, and he wanted to curl up in terror. The pixie's teeth were out, close to his neck and eager to bite. And his arms began to sting where nails half-shifted into claws gripped him.

"I've given you everything. I've been patient and nice and put up with all your crap. And you disrespect me constantly. Treat me worse than you would an outsider." A deep breath. "It's because of her, isn't it? She's infected you."

Harry knew to keep his mouth shut if the subject of Ginny was so much as hinted at. Especially when Draco's teeth hovered near an artery. But, oh, how sweet it would be to prod him. He must be suicidal today.

"I should strip your rump and be done with your whining. Most husbands would, you know." A spark lit in Harry. Weak, but it fueled his strength. If Draco raped him, the struggle would last mere seconds. But he would struggle.

Draco took another deep breath. "Alright, then," Draco said at last. "I won't forgive her. But what if I offered...to never punish harlot for her actions up to now. Would that appease you?" It sounded painful for him to speak, like he would vomit.

Harry recognized that he should accept the lofty offer. However, he did not give a crap about Ginny's safety at the moment. An un-Potter thing for him to feel, but it was so. Besides, he kept Draco too busy for the pixie to get revenge. By now, Aurors and the Weasley family would be alerted, and Harry could trust them to take care of themselves.

He could be wrong. But before he could save anyone, he had to save himself.

He said, "No deal. I'm tired of this. How about you take me home?"

"You are home. And I'm SICK of you denying it." Another erratic shiver tingled down his spine, and Harry shuddered. He was either crazy or addicted to danger as Ron had told him. "I've spoiled you. I thought if I gave you what you wanted, you would like me. But you still think of _her_ don't you? Fucking harlot."

If he had a shred of common sense, he would keep his mouth shut. But he wanted the thrill.

"I love Ginny." And to make sure Draco murdered him quickly, he added, "I will love her until I die."

Draco's growl became a loud roar that made Harry's chest seize up in panic.

Yet he felt wonderful. He was fighting again! He was his own man, uncontrollable! He did not dance for the Imperius, and he would not dance for a pretty lunatic. He had to push Draco farther. Prove to the dangerous pixie and to fate that he would never obey anyone but himself.

This thought scattered when Draco roughly turned his head to the side and kissed him.

Unlike every other kiss Draco stole from him, this one hurt. The taste of marsh mellows Harry craved mixed with the taste of copper as Draco's teeth nicked his bottom lip. Harry did not mind. He ignored the awkward position and kissed back with equal passion and fury.

Then Draco pushed into his lower half, grinding slow but hard. All the welled up frustration in Harry broke, and all he could process was his own greed. He did not love Ginny. She did not cause so much as ripple in his thoughts. All he knew was that he liked marsh mellows. And he wanted fuck something.

Draco held him firmly in place, not relaxing his muscles the slightest bit. Harry tested his hold repeatedly. His hunger mounted with each passing second, and he hated having to lay passively under Draco and be grateful for whatever the bug deigned to give him. He wanted more, damn it, and he would take it.

Draco must have sensed something, because he broke the kiss before Harry's teeth closed on his tongue. They did not part long. Harry twisted to grab a fistful of blond hair and locked their lips again. He took charge, forcing his tongue into Draco's mouth.

Draco struggled at first. He kept to trying to hold Harry, to dominate. But Harry had the upper hand now, and he refused to back down. When the blond tried to breakaway, Harry mimicked Draco's growl and kept Draco's mouth open and his head tilted. Harry's right leg was trapped between Draco's, and Draco nudged his hips forward into it. Harry did not like this and attempted to slide it away from him. When Draco resisted, Harry broke the kiss and bit the hard into the soft flesh under Draco's chin.

He did not bestow any of the gentleness Draco always showed him, and the pixie yelped. He growled and bit harder until, frantically, Draco lifted to allow Harry's leg free movement.

Harry released his bite, and surprise trickled through his lust. He acted like a possessive animal. Like Draco, only more ferocious. He did a good imitation of Draco though his vocal chords put him at disadvantage for pixie growling and chirping. Even so, Draco became pliant in his hands.

Part of him was horrified. In an isolated corner of his mind, he reeled out of control, desperate to stop this mounting disaster. The rest of Harry had turned into a beast. Reasoning began to filter through instinct, and Harry understood something very important.

Growling and biting put him in charge.

This knowledge made him hold Draco's face a couple inches back and bare his teeth while growling louder than before. Draco had done the same thing when Harry mentioned Ginny that first day.

For a long second neither of them moved, Draco staring him down and Harry snarling like a deranged creature. Then Draco sat back onto his heels and placed his hands in his lap. His eyes stayed down to tell Harry he had submitted.

Harry's growling cut off, and he inspected what he had won.

He felt entitled to Draco's touches, kisses, hips, scent, and breath. He did not simply want them, he demanded them. Draco's affection belonged to him, and he would have it.

He lunged and took Draco's flesh between his teeth again, gentler this time, sucking and kissing his throat. Now that he had control, he did not have to bite and bully. His impatience abated. He did not let his mouth stray far from Draco's lips, for he loved marsh mellows, but he explored his new territory with unhurried curiosity. He pushed his hands under Draco's shirt and smoothed them along the muscles and hot flesh. He slid them down over Draco's hips squeezed the firm butt that he had been too shy to stare at this morning.

He delighted in Draco's gasp when his hands worked around to the front.

He had experimented twice at Hogwarts with some pretty Hufflepuff. It had never bothered him since he was too busy with Death Eaters to get confused about something so trivial as his sexuality. But despite his inexperience, he explored Draco without hesitation or uncertainty. Because Draco was his.

Harry had no clue where this sensation of owning came from. He had never thought he could possess a person the way he did an object. But he liked it.

And the entire time that Harry teased him, stroking his hardness but never gripping it firmly, Draco sat obedient, his hands fidgety at his sides. Harry leaned back, watching the man struggle to hold composure. His gray eyes flashed to Harry's once, but a quick showing of Harry's teeth warned him to not try much else.

Harry pushed aside his own feverish hunger in favor of watching the blond's expressions. This was a fun game, coaxing Draco into disobedience. Draco helped him untie the wrappings on his hands, and they both flinched at his torn up fingers. But they seemed to have a silent agreement that his scrapes could wait.

His hands returned to their prize. When he brushed his thumb over the tip, Draco put his palms on the bark and hunched over, panting. Harry put a finger under Draco's chin to tip his face up, and then put that hand to good use, cupping him below and finding a soft spot to rub.

Draco kept his face tilted up, but his eyes stayed down. This pleased Harry because he could watch without feeling uneasy. Whenever his hands did something that almost pushed Draco to disobey, Harry would mimic his fiercest growl. Sometimes the blond winced with effort, but he maintained his submissive form.

Which only encouraged Harry to try harder.

Draco whined when Harry's hands left, leaving him close but not finished. Yet, when Harry tugged his shirt up, his limbs lifted compliantly. A stab of pain reminded Harry that his leg still had a huge gouging spike-splinter stuck in it. And then he remembered that the entire state of his body was dirty and ragged. Embarrassment flooded him as he realized that he did not look as beautiful and ravishing as the man before him. Suddenly he did not want to touch any of the naked skin bare for him, lest he cover it in grime and dried blood.

And that left him with a dilemma on his hands. He faced a mostly naked male he was madly attracted to. This male needed relief, but Harry did not want to gross him out with all his cuts and bruises and sweat. Which disappointed him because there was so much he wanted to do. And all of it included pushing Draco onto his stomach tugging those pants down further.

But alas, not today.

Draco waited impatiently until Harry had his fill of admiring and thinking. Harry ran one palm up Draco's rib cage and lightly tweaked one nipple. Did Draco like it? Harry had never been sensitive there, but maybe it was different for other guys?

He would find out later. Right now they were both aching for release.

He decided to let Draco choose for himself whether Harry's dirty state bothered him. It took precise positioning to find a comfortable place against the hard branch. He replaced his glasses on his face so that he could admire Draco from afar as he leaned back on the stem of a sprouting leaf, his legs sprawled outward. He untied the string to his trousers and pulled out his ready cock.

He knew Draco watched because the man looked absolutely furious. Harry bent one elbow behind his head, shut his eyes, and sighed with exaggerated pleasure as he touched himself.

Draco cleared his throat.

Harry ignored him.

"_What_ are you doing?"

His eyes met Harry's now, but Harry did not mind. He was winning the game.

"Hmm?" Harry lazily opened one eye. "I'm finishing." He went back to it.

Draco's growl grew noticeably louder.

"What? You can do the same."

Harry did not hear him move, but suddenly his hand was removed and the grumbling pixie nipped his stomach, making him jump.

"You are a brat. A spoiled, selfish brat, and I will _not_ _permit it._"

As Draco's mouth closed over him, Harry decided that he liked being bossed around once in awhile. Draco did not waste time with preamble, swallowing him completely and sucking. The vibration from Draco's grumble did Harry in quick, and he bit the knuckles of his fist to keep from making too much noise.

And it did not end there. Harry watched slack jawed as Draco licked him clean and did some exploring of his own.

Why didn't Harry have him doing this in the first place?

Poor judgment on his part.

_Next time._

Yes. There would be next times. Ginny would have to stop existing for now. He must be a despicable man to do this to her. But this was about him, not her.

"Mmm." Draco licked his lips as he crawled up for a kiss. Harry obliged, never tired of marsh mellows.

He felt a bit guilty when he looked down and saw that Draco had already finished himself.

_Next time._

Draco cuddled up beside him. They must have looked comical, lounging together with their pants half down.

Was it too soon for next time?

Besides feeling sated, he felt a calm fascination. He had been in control the entire time, and still could be if he wanted to. He loved being the beast, taking what he owned. Now he was Harry Potter again, a scuffed-up skinny man, but he could feel that animal in him, sleeping. That freedom, that ability to do what he wanted for his own selfish reasons, was intoxicating.

After a long time, Draco brought their embrace to an end.

His words were quiet, almost a whisper.

"Love. Do you still wish to escape?"

Responsible Harry crept back into his conscience, but Harry resisted analyzing the outcome of his answer. He forced shame, Ginny, and everything else out and focused on what he wanted. He found his answer.

"No. I want to stay."

He pressed his lips closed, determined not to take it back. There was something going on here. It confused the hell out of him, but he wanted to stay. At least for a few more days, he told himself.

The situation was not so simple anymore. Now he was a willing captive, guest to a lunatic who insisted they had married.

He would freak out later.

"Good." For a few minutes that was all. Then, "Bath first. Then I can show you my surprise."

Harry had forgotten about Draco's surprise. He hoped it was food.

**!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!**

**AN:** Let me know how you feel about the rating change. I honestly am not sure if lemony scenes work for such a cutesie story. I will cut the scene short and lower the rating if desired.

I confused a few people in the last chapter with the "Harry is a sprite" bit. Harry isn't actually a sprite. Draco has decided that he must be one, since there is no way he would fall in love with a human. Yes. Draco's ego is so huge that the laws of the universe and biology bend to his whims.

Also, I am extremely tired of editing right now. My apologies for missing words and clunky sentences. Feel free to tell me what you find and I will fix them. *hugs*

**Coming up next:** Draco gets to show off his nurturing, protective side as he tends Harry's cuts and scrapes. Woooo for touchy stuff!


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